


Nobody's Fool

by cairn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Friendship, Fluff, I Mean Slow Burn, Mild Character Study, Romance, Slow Burn, Sylvain knows exactly what he's doing, no beta we die like Glenn, we stan the blue lions ladies, we're hitting every rom-com trope because we can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24494704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cairn/pseuds/cairn
Summary: Annette becomes the Blue Lions Dancer, andsomeonehas to teach her how to sword-fight.Alternatively: Annette falls in love. Everything else is meaningless.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Mercedes von Martritz, Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 49
Kudos: 163





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the length of this chapter - I couldn't find a time to break it off neatly. In any case, I have exactly one writing setting: s l o w burn. Hope that works for you.

It wasn't really him at the beginning. Or anyone.

Annette had never intended to go into the Officer's Academy and come out attached to someone else. She really hadn't. She had been sixteen, and one hundred percent excited to learn, and zero percent interested in finding a husband, though it had been something her uncle had off-handedly mentioned once she had gotten in. And yes, people had spoken about marriage at the academy. (People always spoke of marriage at the academy, even if it was just between the lines. Get enough nobles in the room and someone will always bring up engagement. Or betrothal. Or other, equally weighty words.) But Annette had not listened. She had preferred to learn.

She remembered getting along with everyone in the Blue Lions - Dedue had been intimidating, at first, but Mercedes had taken a shine to him and had assured her that Dedue was actually very nice (Mercedes tended to like anyone who needed a bit of tending), so Annette had been, in general, pleased with her class. Dimitri was interesting, because he reminded her of her father, and all of the silly stories he'd once told of him. Mercie was perfect, obviously, and Ashe was nice and studied with her sometimes, and Ingrid could be approachable despite how strong and graceful she was. Sylvain was someone Annette had thought her uncle would have called "too smart for his own good." Felix -- Felix had been frustrating. 

She hadn't liked him too much at first. He could be callous, pessimistic to a fault, and often skipped out on class (all things Annette disapproved of, really). It had taken a few weeks for him to stop looking at her like she was beneath him, but she could still remember exactly the moment he'd changed his mind. It had happened almost at random - it had been a rare day, probably some day in the Harpstring Moon, one where they turned up to the classroom to find the chalkboard just said 'Go to the training grounds.'

"We're sparring today." Byleth had stood before them all, arms folded. The professor's expression had been characteristically blank. "I've assigned you someone to spar. Don't go overboard."

The class had murmured slightly. Mercedes, directly at her side, had looked at Annette, disappointed. "I hate sparring, Annie. What if I have to run?"

"I know." Annette had marked her friend's sigh with a sigh of her own. "Maybe we'll spar and you can just yield and it'll be over."

Mercedes had sighed again. "I don't think the professor would do that."

It had made sense. Byleth had looked rather too smug (for someone so expressionless) to have done something so kind.

He'd gradually gone through the list: Dimitri and Sylvain. Ingrid and Ashe. Dedue and Mercedes. Felix and Annette. 

"It seems -" Dimitri had looked between Mercedes and Dedue, had clearly bit back the word everyone was thinking (unfair). "Perhaps Dedue and I should spar."

"I trust Dedue to be careful, and I trust Mercedes to be aggressive when she needs to be," the professor had said flatly. 

"Oh, Professor, I hate fighting," Mercedes had said, her fingers worrying at the edges of the ribbon in her hair. 

"We must steel ourselves," the professor had said, "for anything. If Mercedes comes against a warrior twice her size in battle but has no practice, what will she do? Similarly, if Ingrid is to learn to dodge arrows, she must have practice dodging them."

"And what am I learning, to avoid pissing off a prince?" Sylvain had looked amused. 

"It seems more fitting for me to fight you, Professor," Felix had interjected. "I doubt this will be much of a fight."

Annette had flushed, feeling Mercedes's eyes (and those of the rest of the class) on her, but hadn't said anything. She was a quick study, and she was fast to cast spells, though Felix may have been faster. She'd seen him cut down enemies in battle - while she had struck her first bandit down at sixteen as a part of their first true mission as a class, he had been doing it since he was a squire at a young age. But she had always been ready for a challenge.

"Underestimating your enemy is idiocy," the professor had said in response. "Please begin, class."

Annette had cast one more look at Mercedes, who had managed to give her a light smile, and headed over to where Felix had stood. 

He'd looked at her for a second, toying with the wooden practice sword in his hand. "Let's make it quick."

"Fine with me." Annette had readied herself. Fighting was a challenge, and Annette liked to win, though she didn't always show it.

"I won't go easy on you." He had sunk into a position she didn't recognize, low and careful.

"Good," she'd said. The thrum of blood in her veins and ears had beat loudly. Annette loved the feeling of magic at her fingertips - the pulse of something foreign and sparking in her chest. Even a sparring match was an opportunity to practice, to grow better, to feel that unpredictable, shivering feeling of releasing something powerful out of her own hands. 

Felix had paused a second longer, as though waiting for her to tell him he could begin, but she hadn't been willing to give away the first move. She had pulled a sudden gust of wind out of the air to slice directly at him. 

He'd ducked just barely, his hair blowing out of his normal bun and into a short ponytail, and he'd leapt at her. Annette had dodged the first blow only to be hit squarely in the solar plexus by the other, thrown backwards a few steps and left gasping for breath. He'd paused for a few seconds (the jerk, Annette had thought, _was_ definitely going easy on her) and it had been the frustration that had driven the Cutting Gale out of her, driving him backwards and onto the sand with a choked gasp. 

The look he'd sent her after shaking himself was far more interested than his normal dispassionate gaze. "Huh."

Annette had been raising her hands to send another wave of the spell at him when he leapt forward again, slicing upwards from below her and catching her arms with the hard wood of the sword. He was _fast_ , and she had barely seen him coming. "Ow!"

This time he hadn't paused, and had swung the sword towards her - she had flinched, anticipating a blow, but had instead felt the press of wood on the tendon between her shoulder and neck. "Yield."

"Ugh." Annette blew her bangs upwards, not willing to look him in the eyes. "I hate losing."

"Train harder, then." While the words were themselves harsh, she had understood the sentiment. She worked hard every day of her life. Her uncle had told her, over and over, that she had been required to excel - there was no success without training, and losing just meant she hadn't done enough yet to win.

She still hadn't managed to meet his eyes, but sighed deeply again. "I yield."

The sword's pressure had been swiftly removed from her shoulder, and Felix had walked away, to where the professor was watching Sylvain and Dimitri spar. 

"What do you say, professor?" Felix had waved the training sword in Byleth's face. "Duel?"

In the end, the sparring match had driven Annette to the library. Techniques for casting magic more quickly, ways to make her spells more powerful, what to do when your opponent was stronger (or had a more powerful Crest). Answers were always in books. The whole world had gone on for years and years and centuries before her existence - so it was obvious that there would be solutions, somewhere, to everything, if she could only find them. 

Unfortunately, all she had succeeded in doing was becoming annoyed at the way the magic techniques outlined in the books seemed to elude her. She'd briefly spoken with Lysithea (who was also always in the library) about it, but neither girl had quite been able to master some of the more arcane tomes, and both had eventually ceased to discuss the speed of magic casting - for, eventually, life had moved on from her frustrations into more serious concerns (the defection of Lord Lonato, rogue bandits to be subdued, and other things).

It had to have been right before Flayn's disappearance that Felix had caught her singing to herself in the greenhouse. What had struck her afterwards (long afterwards, she had to admit) was how calm he had been about it - he didn't blatantly mock and tease with a wink, like Sylvain would have done, or merely cough uncomfortably (Dedue or Dimitri), or flush along with her (Ashe, and also probably Ingrid). He'd smiled very slightly, surely, but hadn't exactly made fun of her. He'd offered to water the plants so she could eat. (She had often forgotten to eat, between everything going on.) But she hadn't been in a position, mentally, to recognize it as an almost-kindness at the time. (She remembered running to her room and covering her face with her hands and fearing the absolute worst - for everyone would know she sang stupid, childish songs to herself, and she did not want to be known as a _child_.) 

She'd done his chores for a while, although he hadn't promised to forget her silly song. And then Flayn had disappeared, and even her humiliation had dissipated at that greater loss. It had seemed, then, that practically everything that came afterwards was a blur - the whole half-year of schooling falling away from them in a blur of work and exhaustion and fear and exhilaration of learning, growing, developing, _becoming_ someone. They'd won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion and celebrated. She'd made friends with Ingrid, and she and Mercedes and Annette would spend time together, sometimes, just the three of them. She'd made Mage, and then Warlock. 

And then it had been the Ethereal Moon, and time had slowed. 

"I'm told," their professor had said, his expression somewhat thoughtful, "that one of you will compete in the White Heron Cup."

"The White Heron Cup!" Annette had spun in a circle at the words. 

"If you need someone, Professor, I recommend Annie or myself," Mercedes had said, smiling. "Although I'm sure anyone would be a good choice."

"Hey, hold on there, I want to dance with beautiful girls." Sylvain had said, pointing directly at the professor. "And if this helps, I want to be chosen."

"Dancing is stupid," Felix had said flatly. "So is this ball."

"What?" Annette had stopped mentally twirling around a dance floor at the sudden proverbial splash of cold water on her excitement.

Ingrid had made a face and spoke before Felix could respond. "Professor, please - please don't pick me. I can't dance to save my life."

"Hold on," Sylvain had said, glancing at Ingrid. "Wait, Professor. Better idea. Pick Ingrid, so when she wins we get to see her in that outf- Ow!"

Ingrid had driven her elbow into his ribs without a sideways glance: practice had, indeed, made perfect. Annette would have guessed she hadn't been fazed at all if it wasn't for the slight pink in her cheeks. "Do you ever think before you speak, Sylvain?"

"Absolutely," he had said, unrepentantly. "Like when I'm hitting on a girl, for instance. You have to think to -"

"Sylvain, please," Dimitri had interrupted. 

"Mm." The professor had surveyed them all. "I'll make a decision and let you know."

"Professor, I cannot stress enough, we should definitely consider the outfit," Sylvain had said.

"What's wrong with the outfit?" Mercedes had asked, blinking. "I don't think I've seen a dancer on the battlefield before."

Dimitri had coughed; Dedue had been as stony-faced as ever. Sylvain merely had looked exceedingly amused. Ingrid had flushed a shade darker. Ashe and the professor had looked as lost as Mercedes. Annette had seen a dancer before - once, in Fhirdiad, at one of the optional lectures in school that Mercie had opted out of. The woman had been stunning, her outfit immaculate, her long legs and figure emphasized by the cut of her clothes. She understood why Sylvain was saying what he was.

In the end, Felix had rolled his eyes. "It's revealing."

"Oh!" Mercedes had pressed a hand to her lips. "Mm. I see."

The professor's gaze had darkened slightly in annoyance. "Sylvain, really. Try to focus on what's important. A dancer is a class like any other. I will choose someone I think is well-suited to the class, so if we do win, it will not be in vain."

In the end, of course, the professor had approached her and told her she would be competing. He'd gone about it in an odd way, had informed her she'd be competing and would be practicing briefly, but he had to go find the person she'd practice with. 

"I'm practicing with someone?" she'd asked. "I am pretty good, Professor, I wasn't exaggerating! I love dancing, so sometimes I just practice on my own for fun. You might not need to get anyone else!"

"It would be good for him, too," the professor had told her flatly. "He needs to do something else besides train."

She had thought, then, that it was likely Dimitri, especially when they headed to the training grounds. But the only person there had been --

"Ah, good. So you're here to spar at last." Felix had grinned almost ferally at the professor when he'd pushed open the double doors to the training grounds, and then had done a double take upon finding Annette trailing behind. 

"Wrong. I'm here to improve your footwork." The professor had surveyed Felix. "And train our competitor for the Cup."

"What?" Felix had paused for a second before the implication came upon him. "Hold on, no. I'm not dancing."

"Actually," their professor had said (and Annette had detected almost a slight amusement in the set of his mouth), "you are."

"This is a training ground, not a ballroom!" Felix had looked like he did when Mercedes had tricked him into eating one of her baked goods.

"Why not both," their professor had said blandly. 

Annette had almost smiled, but had successfully hidden it when Felix glanced in her direction. He had scoffed and looked away. (Okay, so she hadn't successfully hidden the smile.)

"Go on." There had been the barest of upturns to the corners of the professor's mouth, an expression which on anyone else would have been true amusement.

"Okay!" Annette had swallowed her sudden nervousness at Felix's clear unwillingness by grinning at him. "Let's dance."

Felix had scoffed again. "Why am I here?"

"It could… maybe be fun," Annette told him, walking up to him, raising her hands slightly in imitation of a dancing hold. She tried to ignore how irritated his expression was - how low his eyebrows were set, and the curl to his mouth.

"Um, what are we dancing?" she asked the professor, half-turning to look at him.

"Waltz."

"I hate waltzes." Felix wasn't bothering to lower his voice to respect the professor. 

Annette bit her lip. An unwilling partner was really no fun - and she felt self-conscious enough, that Felix had seen her silly dance before. She probably looked like a fool to him, trying to dance for their place in the White Heron Cup.

"Um, Felix," she had said quietly, "I know you really don't want to do this, and I know you said you hate dancing, but it would really mean a lot to me. I really want to win. And I think we can. But the professor wants me to practice."

He hadn't responded, still looking to the side.

"I'll - I'll do your chores for a week," Annette had said, in a whisper. "Or two weeks."

"I suppose your dance steps in the greenhouse were like fencing footwork," he had said, almost to himself. He hadn't met her eyes, but raised his hands to hers. One hand along her back, and one hand raised for her hand. She had rested her left hand on his shoulder, and tried not to think about the height difference (and how his hand was warm on the small of her back, and how she could feel the muscle in his shoulder).

"Two weeks it is," she had said quietly, forcing herself to look at him (because she wasn't nervous. She loved dancing. She was not nervous). 

"Don't waste your time," he'd said dismissively. He still wasn't meeting her eyes, but at this close distance, she saw with sudden clarity that his eyes weren't brown but a shade of almost-red. "I don't care about that."

"Um." Annette really hadn't known what to say to that, but thankfully the professor had interjected.

"Alright. Let's practice."

"Ookay!" Annette had straightened, remembering herself. Because this was training. It was practice! Like studying. It was easy. She loved studying. And she loved dancing. 

"One-two-three, one-two-three," Annette had counted, and Felix had moved forward as they started going into a simple box step. He had been stiff, and clearly hadn’t been enjoying himself. Annette could tell he hadn't been lying when he said he disliked dancing, but thought it was perhaps because he didn't find himself to be good at it. 

"Chin up, Annette," the professor had said, jolting her out of thought. She had held herself further upright, chin perpendicular to the ground, eyes gazing directly at the hollow of Felix's throat when she rose with the steps and lowering a few inches when she fell with the steps. Felix had remained stoically in place throughout the dance, not quite moving as one was supposed to in a waltz. 

He had appeared to know what to do when dancing, though, even if that meant doing the steps but little else. He'd likely learned in some combination of etiquette lessons and formal events - he would have been forced to sit through dancing lessons he hated, she supposed, as the second son of House Fraldarius. Although she had found she really could not imagine him dancing with anyone. Probably just sulking in a corner. She'd grinned to herself.

"What are you smiling about?" Felix's eyebrows were drawn together. "Am I truly that terrible at this?"

"Oh, no," Annette had flushed slightly. "That's not what I'm - that's not it."

"Well, what is it then?" He had eyed her for a split second before looking above her shoulder again. 

"I was just… you're going to laugh." Annette had glanced up at him, but he was still not quite looking at her.

"Try me."

"I was imagining how much you must have hated going to balls growing up," Annette had said truthfully.

He'd snorted. "That's true enough. Although you hardly need to imagine it."

"I didn't go to any, you know," Annette had said. She'd said the words almost before she'd thought them. "Growing up."

(She hadn't. Daughters of disappeared knights weren't often visible in high society, and there had been no time to dance or play in her time at the sorcery school at Fhirdiad). 

Felix had looked at her, then. She had felt it, the press of his gaze on her, but had looked at his collar instead. "I suppose we should have switched places. You could have gone to all those ridiculous events and I could have trained instead."

She'd smiled. "Ooh, that would have been so fun."

He'd let out a slight huff above her. Almost a snort, but not quite. "I suppose you would have found it that way."

They'd danced without speaking for several seconds (or it could have been minutes, it was hard to remember) longer. Annette hadn't missed the fact that he had relaxed, slightly. The stiffness had melted just slightly away from his movements, and they had been moving quite naturally across the room -

"Okay, that's probably good." The professor's voice had surprised her - her hand had twitched on Felix's, and Felix had released her as though burned. Her back had felt cold where Felix had been holding her.

"Good. I think you'll do well, Annette." The professor had nodded at her, and Annette had felt oddly dismissed.

"Thanks so much for the help, Professor," she'd said quickly, and then turned and grinned at Felix. "Thanks, Felix!"

"Whatever," Felix had said, turning around. Annette had done her best not to wilt slightly at the second dismissal, and busied herself with leaving.

She had won the Cup. The next morning a package was pinned to her door - the Dancer's class outfit. She and Mercie and Ingrid had all gathered in her room to look at it.

"Oh, this is so beautiful!" Mercedes had been in her element, almost alight with excitement. "You're going to be so pretty, Annie. You always are, but you will be especially in this."

"It is nice," Ingrid had said, somewhat stiltedly, from her position in Annette's desk chair. She was fiddling with one of the silver arm cuffs in the costume.

"I suppose Sylvain would rather you wear it, though," Mercedes had said, eyeing Ingrid with a small smile.

"What!" Ingrid had dropped the cuff, a sudden flush on her cheeks. She had immediately ducked her head to retrieve it, and when she had straightened, the color in her face was almost gone. "Please. That boy will say anything to make people look at him."

"Hmm. I wonder." Mercedes's voice was lilting, almost knowing. Annette had been struck with the sudden, foreign realization that Mercedes was, indeed, seven years older than her, and maybe slightly more wise in the world, and maybe especially in the way of boys. It was a fact she did not often think about.

"I don't wonder," Ingrid had said resolutely, and that had been that. 

The three had spent significant amounts of time together, that month. There had been a festive atmosphere at the monastery the whole month, and Mercedes had been hell-bent on getting Ingrid to wear makeup, and to dress up (things Annette was equally invested in). It was a time that Annette would later look back on as meaningful - a truly happy time in her life, giggling in stores with the other two Blue Lions girls (or, really, giggling with Mercedes as Ingrid flushed) while considering how to dress up their school outfits for the ball, or how to do Ingrid's hair.

"Well, is there someone you're hoping will ask you to dance?" Mercie had asked her. It had been the night of the ball, and classes had released early, probably because the professors had given up in the face of the irrepressibly high spirits of the students, and Mercedes had been combing something through her hair.

Ingrid was already ready, as Mercedes had insisted on helping her first (or else she would leave before any magic could be done to her, as Mercedes had said), and she had looked back at the two of them at the question.

"Um, I don't know," Annette had said, looking in the little mirror before her. There were plenty of boys in their house. They were the most gender imbalanced house of the three - there were more boys in their class than girls, overall. She could dance with any of them, hypothetically, but she wasn't sure if anyone had stood out. She'd danced with Felix, of course. It had been… nice. Kind of. But Annette hadn't been sure if that was something she'd ever get him to do again. 

Mercedes had hummed behind her, not exactly in disagreement, but not exactly in agreement. 

"What about you, Mercedes?" Ingrid had asked. 

Mercedes had giggled. "Mm. If Annie isn't admitting anything, why should I?"

"Wait, hold on!" Annette had swiveled around, pulling her hair from Mercedes's hands. "Hold on! _Is_ there someone you want to ask you to dance?"

Mercedes had giggled again. "I don't know."

"Oh, you do so!" Annette had almost jumped out of her chair. "Mercie! Are you hiding something from me?"

"Or someone, maybe?" Ingrid had said, the smallest of smiles on her face.

Mercedes had hidden her mouth with her hand, but her eyes had been smiling. "Oh, I don't know. It's a bit silly, isn't it?"

"Nooo, it's so not!" Annette had flushed with equal parts excitement and betrayal. "Oh my goodness, Mercie! Who is it?"

"If he asks me to dance, maybe I'll let you know." Mercedes's eyes crinkled further above her hand. 

"Mercie! We tell each other _everything_ ," Annette had said, almost horrified at this betrayal of trust.

"Oh, I know what to do." Mercedes had lowered her hand from her mouth, her grin becoming slightly more pronounced. A bit mischievous. "I'll tell you who I'd like to ask me to dance if Ingrid says the same."

"What!" Ingrid had flushed. "I'm not a part of this conversation. It's all you two."

"You asked me the question," Mercedes had pointed out, still grinning. 

"There isn't someone," Ingrid had said flatly. Annette had been too polite to point out the fact that Ingrid had still been red, but from the way Mercedes was smiling, she also hadn't missed it.

"I see." Mercedes had returned to Annette's hair, twisting it upwards into a loose style before humming and repositioning it. The cool touch of metal on her scalp had indicated to Annette that she was pinning it in place. Several minutes had passed before anyone had spoken.

"I can't believe you're not telling me," Annette had said, feeling like a child but unable to stop herself from folding her arms.

Mercedes had laughed. "Annie, you can guess. I'll let you guess."

"It's not the same!"

They'd gone to the ball and danced. Annette remembered dancing with a variety of people she didn't know well, and then some she did. Sylvain had made it a point to dance with every girl from the house (practically), and Dimitri had rather formally danced with her and Ingrid, as though out of obligation. Caspar had asked her to dance, which had been funny, since he was kind of terrible at it and she'd mostly had to teach him instead of properly dance. She'd seen Ashe, who had asked her for dancing lessons before the ball, making a few passes through the dance floor. Mercedes had been asked to dance by Ferdinand, who was very good at dancing (Annette was slightly envious), which had made Annette make faces at her over Ferdinand's shoulder until Mercedes had slightly shaken her head at her that no, this was not the person she'd mentioned. 

She'd run into Felix while stopping to get something to drink. He had been standing at the edge of the room being harangued by Sylvain when Sylvain had caught sight of her and waved her over. "Annette!"

"What is it?" she'd asked.

"Felix here does not want to dance. Like at all." Sylvain had rolled his eyes. "Crazy, right? All these cute girls and he can't even bring himself to dance."

"I hate dancing," Felix had said, cutting a look at Sylvain which on anyone else would have been truly murderous, but which on him was severe irritation. 

Annette had blinked at Sylvain, who had smiled at her without comment. She took this as a cue that he wanted her to chime in.

"It's fun to dance," she'd told Felix, "you know, if you want to."

"No, not 'if you want to,'" Sylvain had said, "it should be, 'because you will regret it when you get old and grey and realize you should have been dancing with a cute girl instead of sulking because -'"

"Leave it alone, Sylvain," Felix had said sharply, eyeing his friend.

Sylvain had raised his eyebrows at her. Annette had the sudden impression that he was expecting her to do something, but she hadn’t been sure what.

"You know, Annette is a good dancer," Sylvain had said, apparently taking her silence for what it was (confusion). He'd raised his arms to lace his hands behind his head. "I danced with her myself, so I would know." 

"Go make yourself busy with one of your seventy girls." Felix's look at Sylvain was almost scathing. 

Annette had shifted uncomfortably, thinking about the drink she was missing by standing there and listening to an argument that felt like it should be private.

"Oh, Annette!" Ashe's voice made her turn around. "I was hoping you could, um, dance with me?" He had paused momentarily, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Oh, hi, Sylvain, Felix."

"Hey, Ashe." Sylvain's voice was almost a drawl, amusement suffused through it.

"I'd like to," Annette had said, attempting to completely ignore the two boys behind her. Because who cared who she danced with? Just because she'd danced with Felix, _once_ , and only because the professor had made them dance together, did _not_ mean she had to dance with him again. Or be weirdly pressured into pressuring him into dancing. "Let's see what you learned!"

"I'll try to live up to the expectations," he'd said, grinning slightly.

It had been fun, the dance - the ball in general. And even though she hadn't found out who Mercedes had wanted to ask her to dance, and even though the joy of the month waned slightly in what came after it -- it had still, somehow, been a time that remained mostly untarnished by sadness in her memory. 

She'd had the chance to dance again (in a completely different setting) during the Guardian Moon. The professor had finally (after much begging between lessons) decided to let her change classes to Dancer, but told her she needed some swordsmanship training before he would let her fight as a Dancer with the class. She hadn't been bad the sword, per se, when the professor decided to instruct her on it, but the professor had been a bit more remote, after losing his father, and less inclined to give one-on-one instruction. She had felt the lack of that teaching keenly.

But Annette had never been someone to give up. And there was someone else she knew who was entirely proficient at the sword. She'd gone in her class attire to the training grounds one day, early in the morning, had peeked around the door.

"If that's you, Catherine, don't throw something at me." Felix's voice had been annoyed, but he had been alone in the dim early morning light. Annette had steeled herself and walked in, feeling uncomfortable.

"Um, it's not Lady Catherine." 

Felix had spun around and looked at her. She had seen with uncomfortable clarity how his eyes had widened. 

"Um, I know I look a bit ridiculous," Annette had said quickly, feeling herself quickly flush, despite the amount of cool air that the costume allowed on her skin, "to be training in this, but the easiest way to get used to a class is to train in it, and I need to train my swordsmanship and -"

"Where are you-" Felix had begun speaking, and Annette had increased her own volume to compensate.

"- And anyways I was hoping you could help me because the Professor told me I need to practice swordsmanship but I'm not good at it yet and I want to get better!" She broke off, flushed. 

Felix had met her eyes for a split second and then turned away. 

Annette had flushed darker. "But, um, I get it if you are busy. I know it's kind of a burden. And you have your own training."

Felix hadn't responded.

"Um. But, um, they say the best way to teach is to learn!" Annette had said, attempting optimism, and then had heard what she had said. "Oh - I mean - I mean, they always say the best way to learn is to teach."

"I knew what you meant," Felix had said flatly.

"Oh." Annette had felt acutely that he was going to say no and had tried to sweeten the deal. "Um. I can also do your chores. Since you'll have less time to train, if you're helping me."

"No, it's - it's fine." Felix had taken a deep breath and looked at her again. "You're probably terrible right now, anyways. Someone has to do it."

Annette had fiddled with one of the silver pieces on the dress. "Are - are you sure?"

Felix had finally faced her properly, scowling. "It's fine. Stop asking." He had paused and looked to her hip as though to note her lack of a sword. "So. You want to get better. Fine. What rank are you testing at right now?"

"Um." Annette had flushed again. "It's not good."

"Well, what is it?" He'd walked over to the set of training swords at the edge of the arena, picking up a smaller sized wooden sword. 

"Um, I'm only barely testing at rank D right now," she had said, voice small.

He had flipped the sword so the handle was facing her. "So you're essentially no better than your average squire. If that."

She'd flushed, looking at the floor. "Well… I guess so."

She had heard the shrug in his voice. "You started learning, what, two weeks ago? You might improve if you work for it." 

She looked up. The choice of words, for him, had been almost nice.

"Right," she'd said, grasping the handle and feeling energized enough to grin up at him. "You'll see! Soon I'll be an amazing swordswoman."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he'd said, but she'd seen the small smile at the edges of his mouth nonetheless.

He'd walked her through the basics (which she knew), and tried to explain certain grips on the sword handle, certain strikes, how to parry effectively, the differences between a two-sided blade and a one-sided blade (she hadn't known there was such a thing), until she was blinking at him, slightly overwhelmed. She hadn't known he could talk for so long, let alone be so passionate about something. He'd met her gaze, read something there, and sighed.

"Look, it's easier to just show you." Felix had gone to the rack of training swords, picked one and returned, brandishing his hands at her. "This is how you hold a rapier." He'd waited until Annette had repositioned her hands before changing his. "A broadsword. I doubt the Professor would ever give you one though. Too heavy for you." She'd copied him nonetheless. "Armorslayer. No, not like that. See? The center of gravity is different. …That's halfway decent. And then this is just for your basic sword. Steel sword, that's probably what the Professor will give you."

"Okay," Annette said, "got it." 

"Good. So keep that grip and just come at me."

"Like, just - fight you?" Annette had raised her eyebrows. 

"Yes." Felix had grinned at her slightly.

"I'm not very good," she'd said, flushing. Annette liked to excel. She always had excelled - in magic, in school, at the White Heron Cup. She didn't do things halfway. And she certainly didn't like to feel humiliated by someone who, compared to her, was practically a master.

"Oh, come on. Don't waste our time. Just show me what you've got." Felix's eyes held something she hadn't seen the last time they'd sparred, all those months ago. A challenge.

Annette's eyes had narrowed and she had jumped forward, swiping the sword towards him - and yelped as his sword met hers and the force knocked hers out of her hands, only narrowly missing her face.

"Mm." Felix had lowered his sword and looked to hers, spinning slightly on the ground behind her. "Well, I suppose it was too early to think you'd be able to hold it correctly."

Annette had flushed. 

"Not your fault," he had said, so easily that she had almost forgotten how unlike him it was to say something like it. "We'll do it again." 

"Again?" She'd barely begun to feel her wrists again. "Are you sure it's helpful?"

"Books only get you so far," he'd said, holding out the training sword to her again. It felt somehow like he'd read her mind. "You need experience."

"Okay." She'd cracked her wrists and gripped the sword again. "Again."

It had taken an hour or so for Felix to finally deem her grip acceptable, and by that time it was far past time for breakfast. It had taken a few more days of him nitpicking her various stances before he was happy with them. The stance nitpicking had been far more uncomfortable, in some ways, than even having the sword wrenched from her hands by sheer force.

"No, not like that." He had sunk into a position beside her. "Like this."

She had tried to copy. "Like this?"

Felix had let out a deep sigh. Annette had straightened suddenly. "I am trying, you know!"

"I know, I know." He had sighed again. "Look - look. Can I - just -"

"Just what?" Annette had crossed her arms, trying very hard not to get more agitated than she already was.

"Look." Felix had walked behind her to stand directly behind her. "Just - get into position."

Annette had felt, very suddenly, how little her clothing had hidden. And how she could feel his warmth at her back, and on her neck, where her hair was tied up. "Okay."

"Your left leg is too far out. You're throwing your center of gravity off."

She had adjusted.

"No - just - here." Felix's hand had reached out and hovered slightly above her thigh. Annette had felt herself flush instantly, realizing once again that her legs were almost entirely bare. He had cleared his throat behind her, and she felt all the more uncomfortable, realizing he was uneasy as well. He'd finally pressed his fingers very slightly into her leg. "Move this way."

She had adjusted again, trying very hard to look directly at the wall in front of them and not think about -- anything else.

"Better." Felix had immediately let her go and she felt more than heard him move further away from her, the slight decrease in temperature at her back.

"Is it right now?" she'd asked, aiming for complete normalcy in her tone. 

"Your arms are still off," he'd said flatly. "Here. It's easier."

He'd walked over and (eyes entirely on her arms, she'd seen, while watching his face) grasped her upper arms and pushed them lightly into position. He was hovering directly over her, as her knees were slightly bent in stance. "Like that. If you get a feeling for that position, that's the stance you want to be in for battle."

"Um. I think I got it," she'd said, not entirely able to move her eyes from his face, uncomfortably close to hers. He'd looked down at her, and immediately let go of her arms. She'd flushed, again, seeing the red in his cheeks for just a second before he had immediately turned away. She was trying, extremely hard, to focus on the feeling of the stance, and was not entirely succeeding.

"That should be right," Felix had said, from several steps away. "Just - hold that position for a while and… get a feel for it."

"Okay." Annette could feel her entire face go red as she tried extremely hard not to blush (because he'd just been _so close_ , and she wasn't really wearing much, and he had been _so close_ and even though it was an _entirely_ appropriate situation it didn't feel like it was) and blushed all the more because of it. She had tried to think of anything else. Random things. Kitchen explosions (oh wait - no, she flushed when she was embarrassed, too), or tea with friends, or the fact that they'd watched the professor watch his father die (that was indeed sobering), and - and studying, and training, and… wait, that just led her back to the fact that it _felt_ like she could still feel his hands on her arms, or the slight press of his fingers to her thigh. 

Felix had cleared his throat. "You… probably don't need to stand in position for that long."

Annette had practically jumped upright into a normal standing position. "Oh - yes - yep, you're right." 

"We're done for today," Felix had said, and she had doubted herself when she thought she still saw some pink on his cheeks. "Go get food or something."

"Okay," Annette had said, all too grateful to leave as well. "Thanks for the help."

"Whatever," Felix had said, but the word was less annoyed than it had used to be.

He had given her pointers throughout the month, so rigorously that she barely had the time to think about the way he looked pleased when she finally could withstand him trying to knock the sword from her hand, or the way he'd bit back a laugh when she'd finally grazed his arm with her practice sword and had been so surprised she'd yelled "oh!" in triumph. (Or the angles of his body, the way he held himself with purpose when training, the way she could see his eyelashes and the flecks of orange in his eyes when he stood close to her to demonstrate another way to block, or the warmth of his hands when he hauled her from the ground after knocking her into the sand.)

When she'd skipped a day due to absurdly bad cramps, he'd shown up at her door - at her door! - at six in the morning, as though - as though people wouldn't think that maybe something was going on. (Annette had thought, then, that maybe there was something going on. There were a few other students who favored the sword who Felix sparred with, but he didn't instruct them. Although - she had actually asked him to. He hadn't had much of a choice. So, ergo, there wasn't something going on. Or something.) And… though it hadn't really been a secret, she hadn't really told anyone. She'd kind of mentioned it to Mercedes, once, that every once in a while, Felix gave her pointers. But the 'every day' part had kind of been… left out.

They'd gone on a mission, that month, to his home territories. Felix had been angry the whole time, speaking sharply to anyone who dared look at him slightly off. Annette had almost been asked to stay at the monastery instead of go on that mission, because the professor hadn't been sure if she was ready to go to battle yet as a Dancer, but Felix had spoken up. ("She's passable.") The professor had blinked at that, and then taken a searching look at her and another of Felix. Sylvain had raised an eyebrow at her knowingly. (She could still remember that. The weird feeling of knowing that Sylvain thought he knew something private but not knowing what, but knowing she needed to be deeply embarrassed about it.) But the professor had taken her with them all the same.

The battle against the bandits had been fairly swift. Dimitri had been extremely eager to go, given some sort of history between him and Felix's father, and Felix was entirely capable of taking out groups of bandits alone. Annette had been tasked with mostly dancing to keep Felix moving so he could keep up with the horses that most of their group now rode, and attacking only if any armored units got too close. (So, in reality, the professor hadn't really believed she was ready to fight. But she hadn't been offended.)

It had been remarkably easy, to fight with Felix. The first place in battle besides maybe Mercie's side that felt natural. Maybe it was the training nearly every day, but Annette had felt acutely how simple it was to trust Felix to knock out whatever enemy came their way, and send along a follow-up attack if the bandit hadn't been already killed. 

Felix had seemed less at ease with the situation. It had been his family's territory, and she had understood that. The tension she had seen in his back and neck - she had assumed it was to do with some sort of protectiveness towards his home. And then she'd seen him interact with his father, and had actually understood.

"Pathetic," he'd practically spat. At Lord Rodrigue - at the Shield of Faerghus. At his father. Annette hadn't been able to figure out which was the more shocking. "So you struggle to defeat some ragtag bandits."

"Felix…" Whatever his father's words were, Annette hadn't heard, as a bandit had shot an arrow directly at her that she only very narrowly dodged. She'd already had the wind on her fingertips, ready to release, when Felix had turned, charged at the bandit, and cut her down. 

She'd looked at Felix's father in slight surprise, as though he would know why he had gone, but Lord Rodrigue's eyes were on his son. Sad, searching eyes. 

Annette had felt the sudden prick of loss behind her eyes. Sudden heat, so unwelcome in a battle. She didn't know if she had ever seen that look from her father, though she indeed had seen guilt and shame (for he wore it like a cloak, thick and oppressive). Even despite the years. Even despite - 

"You're hurt," Felix had said, more of a statement than a question, suddenly before her. She'd looked at him and immediately understood her reddening eyes had made him think she'd been hit. 

"Oh - oh, no." Annette had waved him away and grinned widely, forcing herself to remember herself, and her own goal in the battle. The shouting and clanging of weaponry around them. "Nope! All good here! Time for you to go out and fight again!"

Felix's eyes had narrowed slightly but he hadn't said anything else.

When she had finished dancing, and Felix had moved on, she had felt Lord Rodrigue's eyes on her for a second - something she didn't quite feel comfortable turning to face. Better to stand and fight the enemy at his side than remember her own father.

Upon returning from that mission, sometime in the next few days when she had been discussing something fervently with Mercedes in the dining hall, just the two of them, Sylvain had come and sat next to them, trailing Ingrid and Felix behind him. It had been unexpected - Ingrid sometimes would join them at mealtimes, but mostly she would sit with Sylvain and Felix and sometimes Dimitri, the childhood friends alone in their own separate circle.

"Hey, ladies," he'd said easily, sitting beside Mercedes. "You mind some company? I'm getting sick of having to look at Felix and I would love to see a pretty face."

"Um," Annette had said, looking at Mercedes. They had traded a look of subtle confusion.

Mercedes had been the one to break the look. She had smiled lightly at Sylvain. "Everyone is always welcome!"

"Hey," Ingrid had said, sitting next to Annette. "Sorry about the intrusion."

Felix hadn't really said anything as he'd sat down on Annette's other side. If she hadn't known that the scowl was his normal expression, she would have truly been concerned that he was annoyed to sit with them. 

"What were you three doing today?" Mercedes had asked.

"Ingrid was flying around all day," Sylvain said.

"Practicing flying," Ingrid had corrected. "Not just flying for fun."

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's purposeful, no fun in your life," Sylvain had said lightly. He had then smiled at somewhere in the middle distance, in a way that almost hadn't reached his eyes. "I was otherwise engaged."

Felix had snorted. "Is that what you're calling hitting on random passerby these days?"

Ingrid had made an odd noise in the back of her throat. "Sylvain, were you really?"

"Hey, hey, hey, all in good fun. I only flirt with one lady at a time." 

Mercedes and Annette had traded a look again. Annette hadn't been sure if Mercedes could even make a disapproving expression, but whatever she had made had been close.

"So what have the two of you been up to all day?" Sylvain had asked. 

"Um, studying, mostly," Annette had said truthfully.

"Annie was in the library all day!" Mercedes had echoed. "I studied a bit, too."

"Annette," Sylvain had said, "I heard you've been going to the training grounds every morning, not the library. Is that part of your studying?"

Annette had blinked. It really hadn't been a secret, but… she also hadn't told anyone about it, besides Mercie. And it kind of wasn't pleasant to have Sylvain bring it up. "Um, yes, I'm practicing swordsmanship. The Professor said it should be a Dancer's favored weapon."

"Huh." Sylvain had looked at Felix, sitting opposite him. "That wouldn't have anything to do with Felix leaving his rooms earlier than normal every morning to train, would it?"

Felix had scoffed. "What, are you keeping tabs on me now? Who the hell asked you to do that?"

"Hey, now, that isn't a denial," Sylvain had said, his smile now positively foxlike.

"Hold on," Ingrid had said slowly, as though she had finally pieced something together with far more significance than just… training patterns, "hold on."

Sylvain had grinned at Annette. "So, is Felix a good teacher, then?"

Annette had felt heat gathering in her cheeks, mostly due to the odd tilt to Sylvain's smile. "Um, yes."

"See, now, that's funny," Sylvain had said, looking at Felix this time, still smiling the same discomfort-inducing grin, "because Felix is _notoriously_ terrible at helping anyone with swordsmanship. And he _never_ agrees to help anyone improve."

"What the hell are you suggesting," Felix had said. Annette hadn't needed to look at him to guess his expression was verging on glacial.

"Oh, I'm not suggesting anything." Sylvain had leaned back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself. "Nothing at all."

Annette had felt with acute clarity the press of Mercedes and Ingrid's collective gaze on her, but hadn't been able to look up from the food in front of her.

Mercedes had hummed lightly. "I think it's good to want to improve. Annie is a quick study, too."

"Heh, I'm sure she's a good student." Annette had flushed again, at… whatever he thought he was implying. The urge to glance at Felix had been extremely compelling, but she had ignored it.

"Sylvain," Ingrid had said, her tone suddenly sharp. "Seriously. You're being ridiculous."

"Hey, all I'm saying is, I wouldn't say no to someone wearing that outfit either," Sylvain had said. Annette really had gone truly bright red, then, had felt her ears grow hot and the room around her warm considerably. The urge to retreat (flee to her room, or to the greenhouse, or the library, or anywhere other than here) had been impossible to ignore.

"Shut up, Gautier." Felix's voice had in itself been a blow, just a touch more aggressive than Ingrid's horrified, "Sylvain!"

Mercedes had turned and frowned at Sylvain. The expression had been downright furious on her. "That's not right to say, you know. You should apologize."

"All right, all right," Sylvain had said, "I went too far. I am sorry, Annette. You're just too fun to tease! You're real cute when you're blushing."

"Insatiable," Felix had said. Even without looking, Annette had been able to picture his expression, the fury he sometimes expressed to opponents he found unworthy. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"You are insufferable," Ingrid had said, folding her arms. "Really, Sylvain. Really."

"Hey, I said I was sorry!" Sylvain had shaken his head.

Annette hadn't gone to the training ground the next morning - all she had been able to hear had been Sylvain's voice echoing in her ears ("I'm sure she's a good student"). The day after, she'd awoken to a knock on her door. She'd stumbled out of bed, pulled on some sort of covering over her nightgown, and suddenly realized what time it was, and how low the sun was in the sky (far too early to be Mercedes, coming to make sure she wasn't going to be late to class), and who the knocker was likely to be. She'd found herself glancing at the mirror before answering the door, which… she hadn't done before. Had never taken a second to wonder if she was presentable, when she knew she'd see him. Annette had seen herself flush in the mirror and immediately opened the door (despite her mussed hair, and the fact she was pretty much undressed under the coat) as though to defy that series of thoughts entirely.

Felix had blinked at her, fully dressed, sword strapped to his side. A tense set of seconds had passed in which he just… stood there, looking at her.

"Um, yes?" she'd said, mostly to fill the silence. She'd expected an immediate 'why aren't you coming to train today,' and the silence had been unnerving.

"Are you _sick?_ " he'd asked, folding his arms. 

"Excuse me! D-Do I really look that bad?" Annette had said, crossing her arms over her coat all the more tightly.

"You're not out of bed, you're flushed like you have a fever," he had said, raising an eyebrow. "And you weren't at the training ground yesterday."

"I'm - I do not have a fever." Annette had adjusted her coat self-consciously. "I didn't realize I - that I had to come every day."

He'd scoffed slightly, shaking his head. "Don't tell me you're listening to anything _Sylvain_ said." 

"No!" Annette had said, all-too-quickly.

Felix had snorted again. "Don't listen a single thing he says. I've never met someone so untrustworthy in my life."

Annette had pulled at the cuffs of the coat, not sure what to say.

"Well, it doesn't matter to me either way," Felix had said, shrugging and looking away. "You're the one who needs to learn."

"Yeah, I know." Annette had sighed. "I know."

She'd looked at the ground between them, the wooden slats worn from years of students' feet.

"I didn't think you were stupid enough to listen to what people said," Felix had said. She'd looked up, but he was looking somewhere else down the hallway. "That's all."

"Right." She'd felt a smile pulling on her lips. Because despite it all (despite the words, and the fact he wasn't meeting her eyes), he had been… nice. Surprisingly so. "Thanks, Felix." 

"Whatever." He'd turned and walked away towards the training ground. "If you're coming, get ready. You look like a mess."

"Okay!" she'd called to his back. "I'm coming."

And when the top sort of blew off the world, when Edelgard was revealed as the Flame Emperor, when Dimitri sort of… there wasn't really a word for it. In the carnage, and possibly because she'd been so shocked that she'd actually dropped her sword with a clang on the stone tile, it had been Felix who had shifted slightly so that she wasn't directly looking at it (at Dimitri and the blood, and the gore, though she could still hear it - his terrible voice, speaking of immense pain). It had been Felix who had pulled her (and Mercedes, she remembered) out of the tomb, Felix who had been the one still coherent after seeing all of it, and Felix who had placed a hand on her shoulder, somewhat lightly, but present, when she had begun crying on the contraption moving upwards out of that horrible, green-stoned place.

And when the final battle had gone south - that first, terrible battle of the war, the first time Annette had felt weary of fighting, and seeing smoke and death and terrible monsters - and had ended in a terrible, costly loss ---

she hadn't seen Felix at all.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tone changes from Part I to reflect how the game's tone changes in Part II... hence the introspective beginning & reflection. Bear with me if you will!
> 
> Fair warning: Contains canonical death to make this story canon compliant. Even so, if anyone cares, I think this is my favorite chapter... but the one that's coming has my favorite scene :) Enjoy!

Five years wasn't really that long of a time, in the grand scheme of the average human life. 

But a lot had happened from sixteen to twenty-two. 

She'd learned a lot about cowardice, in her time at home. Her family had submitted to the Dukedom of Faerghus - to Cornelia. Lady Cornelia, her uncle called her. Annette had bristled. Argued. Wept. But - ultimately - given in. ("It's for my people," her uncle had said. "Can't you see the death that would occur, if we were to fight? We have not the resources of Fhirdiad, and it fell. And we have not the soldiers of Houses Gautier or Fraldarius. To fight would be suicide. I would be forcing my troops to die.") But she had thought of her fellow students who she had known were fighting. There had been no guarantee for them, either. Despite the military prowess of Gautier or Fraldarius or Galatea or Charon, there had been no guarantee they would survive, let alone win. To fight without a king or heir to the throne was almost foolish, as her uncle told it. To fight against an entire Imperial army… her uncle had shaken his head wordlessly at the thought. And still her classmates had fought. She had known they had been brave, her classmates, but she had perhaps not known how brave. (And she'd heard rumors of a young knight who had defected from House Rowe, and had wondered if Ashe, too, had far more mettle than she did.)

And if, occasionally, her mind had turned to the heir to House Fraldarius more than it would have normally, as her former classmate, she had tried not to notice. His father had been on the forefront of many people's minds, and her uncle often worried about him quietly to her over dinner, speaking of how Lord Rodrigue was known to have so many thousand men positioned in this location, or had recruited so many hundred from that territory, and how the Aegis shield was an uncommonly powerful Relic, and how the young Fraldarius was making a name for himself in battle, until her mother had declared she could no longer stand discussions of war over the table. 

For her own part, Annette had salvaged the letter sent by Lord Rodrigue to her uncle from her uncle's desk when he was out surveying knights, the day before he had the letter burned. Annette had read its contents in silence. ('I urge you, Baron Dominic, to consider the future of the Kingdom. Rumors persist that the Crown Prince is still alive. You have a duty to stand at our side and fight to honor his life if he is truly dead, and a duty to stand at our side and fight for his rightful place on the throne if he is alive. Note well that your brother fights at our side.') She had imagined, temporarily, writing a response ('Dear Lord Rodrigue, though my uncle will not fight, I wish to fight against the Empire at my father's side. Please allow me to join your forces'), but had only sighed at the thought. She could not leave her family. Even to send such a letter would have been endangering her family - her entire territory - to the wrath of the Dukedom, if it had been found out. Annette had not believed her own desire to fight was more important than thousands of lives.

When the Millenium Festival approached - five years from the day her classmates had said that they would meet again - she had packed a bag. The Dancer's costume she hadn't touched in years, her old robes as a Warlock, greaves that someone had lent her that she had forgotten to return (and would never, now, most like). She had stolen a sword from her uncle's war-room, had strapped the leather bag to herself, shed her jewelry and the ring with her family crest, and hadn't kissed her mother goodbye.

And, all at once, between hitching rides on passing farmers' carts and walking and being catcalled and kindly aided by a group of soldiers who had believed her story about going to meet her father (which had been mostly true in the end, really), she had made it to Garreg Mach. 

She hadn't had the chance to speak to Felix, those first weeks, and she had pretended to herself that that fact had not bothered her. Between moving rubble and sweeping and (unfortunately) tripping over carpets and barrels and chunks of marble that had been displaced in the monastery's gradual, five-year ruination, she had been too busy, and he had as well. They had had long war meetings that stretched across days that had made Annette return to the library to pore over battle tactics books she hadn't touched since her days in the monastery studying with Ashe. And if, occasionally, she had gotten a touch distracted during the war meetings, letting her mind and her eyes wander, Annette had tried (she really had tried) to not notice how Felix had gotten taller, and broader. 

And then one day, he had found her looking out over the ramparts of one of the cathedral's many walls.

She had been humming some refrain of a song that she had been practicing with Mercedes as a part of choir practice. It had seemed farcical, really, to imagine the war necessitated things like choral performances, but the action of singing had been soothing, and Mercie adored going to the cathedral, so it had felt like the right thing to do. Mercedes had waved Annette away, after the rehearsal, had informed her she needed to go pray, but Annette hadn't quite felt like traversing back to her rooms, or to the dining hall. And this area of the monastery, for whatever reason, had escaped the majority of the damage wrought by time. So Annette had rested her elbows on the half-wall and hummed for the expanse of trees below her.

"What are you singing?" 

She had turned slightly, instantly recognizing the voice. "Oh, hi, Felix." She had semi-consciously pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to remain nonchalant. He had one hand on his hip, eying her. "It's called Lady Seiros the Grand, or something like that."

He had snorted. "Not of your invention, I see."

"No," Annette had said. "Something for the choir."

He had walked up to stand next to her, and they had looked over the half-wall together in somewhat companionable silence, something that had been strange for both of them - Annette, because she had liked so often to fill silence with chatter, and Felix because he so little liked to approach others.

"What brings you to the cathedral?" she had asked, finally. It had been odd, really. Felix rarely had stopped at the cathedral; she had never seen him pray.

"Someone has to make sure the boar doesn't snap and kill a bystander when he goes on a rampage," Felix had said flatly.

Annette had coughed. "Um. Right." 

There had been another minute or two of silence as Annette had spent time worrying the edges of her cape between her gloved fingers, thinking about the implications of the change in Dimitri, who had taken to standing in front of the fallen rubble in the chapel. Two soldiers always had stood around him, although it had not been clear if their purpose had been to protect the heir to the throne of Faerghus or to protect anyone who had come near him.

"You don't have to stop singing because I'm here," Felix had said, interrupting her thoughts. When she had glanced up at him, his eyes had been fixed firmly on the horizon. 

"Oh," she had said, feeling the sudden heat of self-consciousness again. "Um. Okay."

She had begun to hum again, slightly quieter than before, and thus less accurate at hitting the notes. About halfway through the second verse, she'd glanced up at Felix again only to see his eyes had shut, almost like a cat basking in the sun. She'd suddenly petered out, flustered, and he'd opened his eyes to look directly at her. 

"What," he had said. 

"You, um." Annette had sort of waved her hand in the air, trying to avoid the words 'peaceful,' 'calm,' and 'content,' all things she had never quite associated with him. "Looked like you might fall asleep."

"Standing up?" he had said acerbically, one eyebrow raised. The sudden mood had been gone. "Really?"

"It happens!" she had said, suddenly folding her arms, "I read about it in this medical tome -"

"I'm not denying it's physically possible," he had said, fully interrupting, "but is it really likely?"

"Well." Annette had shifted slightly. "It's possible."

He'd snorted. The leaves of the trees below them had flickered in the wind; the trees towering above them had scattered the sunlight on them in flashes as their leaves, too, rustled. "Is that the whole song? Seems short to be a hymn."

"Oh." Annette had looked at him. He hadn't looked embarrassed, and it wasn't as though he was actually _requesting_ that she continue. But it had been a nudge. "Right. There's more."

She had hummed again, picking up the last line and continuing the thread of the song, gradually gaining confidence until she switched from humming to singing quietly, her words almost lost in the breeze and the rustling of leaves around them.

It had been a short moment. Maybe it had lasted for five minutes, or maybe ten (she'd repeated the song once, as if to make up for the initial shortened version). But Annette had not forgotten it - the sudden peace. The feeling of the cool winds of spring against her cheek, and a song in her head and on her lips. And the strange feeling that the person beside her was enjoying listening. When she'd finished singing, he had stood there for maybe a minute or two longer. And then Mercedes had called for her from one of the chapel entrances and she'd jumped, fleeing the odd implications of that strange second in time with a quick goodbye. 

After that, she and Felix had sat next to each other at war meetings. She had sort of inserted herself between him and Sylvain to point at something on a map for the professor's benefit, and then when they'd taken their seats, the seating had just kind of… changed. Sylvain had sat in the wrong spot, leaving his spot next to Felix open for Annette, and forcing Ashe to move to her seat. It hadn't been her intention. Not really. But it hadn't been unwelcome. The lean seventeen-year-old boy she'd known had grown into someone she would be deeply unwilling to face if on the opposing side of the battlefield; the years had made his scowl all the more intimidating, and she hadn't failed to notice his family's Relic strapped on his back as though a permanent extension of himself. But despite all that, if she had found him attractive, and maybe watched him in meetings even when he hadn't been speaking, it really hadn't been the time or place to consider it.

But he was smart, and in ways she had never realized. He had barely paid attention in tactics classes, but he had constantly given seemingly bizarre suggestions to the professor, nothing like the textbook solutions Annette knew and loved. Even so, the professor often was swayed by Felix's ideas, noting they were probably the most apt for battle. He had fidgeted with a dagger occasionally when they were discussing something particularly worrying, and fidgeted the most when Dmitri seemed the least himself. He had debated weaponry at length with the professor and her father one day, explaining exactly what swords were required for their squadrons, and Annette had seen her father nod at his decisions with respect. And his personality - even the callous, sarcastic part of it - was unchanging, something that had been oddly reassuring, in the midst of so much change and fear and exhaustion.

Until it hadn't been.

"That's a terrible idea," he had said flatly to her, one day when they were getting up from their seats from a particularly brutal discussion of their chances in the next battle against the Empire. 

"It is not!" she had said. "We need more weapons, don't we? My family has a Relic, just like yours. And we need all the firepower we can get! We're running out of men, and out of supplies. A Relic would help."

"You're being foolish," he had said, looking at her with that all-too-familiar scowl. "You're planning on entering the Dukedom, openly requesting a weapon to fight the Dukedom from a lord who allied with the Dukedom, and then you're just going to _skip_ out of enemy territory?"

"I am not going to _skip_ home," Annette had said, pushing her chair in with more force than necessary. 

"And how exactly are you planning on hiding the Relic from the Dukedom, when they come searching for it?" Felix had asked, folding his arms. "From what I've heard, it's about the size of you. Can you even carry it?"

"Of course I can!" Annette had fought the sudden urge to stomp her foot like a child. She had never carried the Relic before, but she was strong enough to hold it. She had been sure of it. "I am going to get Crusher, Felix."

"You're going to die trying, is what you mean," he had said, turning away. "But that's none of my concern."

Annette had stomped her foot, this time. "Ugh! You are so unhelpful."

"I gave you my opinion." He had turned to look at her. "If you're foolish enough not to listen to it, it's your funeral, not mine."

Annette had glared at him with all the force she could muster, but his eyes were cold and distant, as foreign to her as if they had never spoken before. He had eventually turned away and walked out of the room, and Annette had been left with her fury. 

In the end, of course, she had been standing on the hot flagstone of the village surrounding her uncle's estate, feeling foolish and afraid. Her father had forced her behind him ("Stand back, Annette"). The four guards around them were imposing, the white and blue armor she knew so well suddenly strange to her. Her uncle had pleaded with her ("Come home, Annette, and we can live like family once again"), but she had known that she could no longer sit in cowardice - that she would fight, and if she died in her own territories, by her uncle's hand… well, it hadn't been her first choice, in ways to die. But she had been steeling herself for the possibility. And then a yell had issued from somewhere farther in the village. 

"Annette!"

"Is that… the professor?" Annette had asked, shocked.

"We could hardly go into enemy territory without a backup plan," her father had said gruffly in front of her. 

"Over here, Professor!" she had yelled, willing herself to project her voice as loudly as she could. "Over here!"

One of the knights around them had turned to her and she had flinched. Her father's voice in front of her, again: "Stand back, Annette."

She had backed up slightly, until her back was almost to the corner of the city walls, and her father had followed her, protecting her. 

"Let us hope they come quickly," her father had said, the only indication he had given of the dire nature of their situation.

"Yeah." Annette had readied herself, readied her magic until it was tingling on her fingertips, itching like pins and needles across her skin.

She had heard shouts from across the way for several minutes. Each minute felt more painful than the last, and despite the chill in the air, fear had caused sweat to trickle down her spine, her fingers to grow numb with the pressure of holding so much magic in balance, ready to strike at any second, should the fortress knights move. And then, after what had seemed like an hour, Ingrid had burst from between the houses, her pegasus barely grazing the rooftops as she flew. "Annette!" 

"Ingrid!" Annette had watched as the blonde flicked hair out of her eyes and faced down one of the fortress knights with incredible dignity. Her pegasus had leaped slightly, mid-air, but Ingrid had reined her in, apparently waiting for something. And then Ingrid had barreled down from the sky with incredible speed, her lance shining in the sun. The clash of metal on metal was deafening, but it had barely dented the knight.

The three other fortress knights, apparently finding this to be their cue, had turned to her father and her.

"Don't move, Annette," her father had said. 

"As if I'd let you just fight for me," Annette had said, suddenly afraid enough to be angry at being pushed away from the battle as though she was a child who couldn’t be trusted with her own safety. She had slipped from her father's side and turned to the same knight Ingrid had attacked, releasing the wind spell she had been holding pent up for far too long. The knight had toppled to the side, and Ingrid had yelled a wordless cry (of triumph or attack, or both) and moved to fight the next one.

The two remaining fortress knights had moved forward, one towards her father, and the other - 

Annette had braced herself for the axe strike before it came, had barely managed to slip to the left to avoid the brunt of it, but had felt it cut into her side with a gasp.

"Annette!" her father had yelled. The other knight, clearly recognizing which of the two they stood more chance against, began to move towards her as well. Annette had grimaced. (Okay. So this had probably been her fault, in retrospect.) 

Sylvain's voice had suddenly come from behind Ingrid, accompanied by hoofbeats against the cobblestone. "Stop squirming!"

"If you would _ride_ instead of stop every five seconds to rear your horse up, I wouldn't _have_ to move!" Annette had realized with sudden clarity what she was about to see moments before Sylvain had appeared with Felix, who looked absolutely furious, in tow. They had met eyes for a second, over the second fortress knight's raised axe, and she had seen his eyes widen.

"Move!" Felix had shouted at her, and she had, barely dodging the second axe strike, and then not successfully dodging the first knight's strike with his shield. It hit her back with all the force of several pounds of reinforced steel and catapulted her to the flagstone, knocking the breath out of her with a wheeze.

She had heard more than saw Felix jump from the horse and raise the Levin sword, tasted the sudden burnt steel of its strike as it hit home. "Whoa there, Annette," Sylvain had said from above her, "you need a vulnerary?"

"No," she had managed to say, twisting upwards to a standing position. 

"Okay. I'm going to let you handle that one with Felix, then," Sylvain had said, spurring his horse on as he thrust his spear towards the knight that was clearly proving to be too difficult for Ingrid alone.

Annette had shaken herself. Her head was still ringing, but she was alive, and the fortress knight in front of her had raised his axe to swing at Felix - 

She had pulled power from a source she hadn't known she had, and shot fire at the knight, giving Felix a split second to move before the axe cracked the flagstones beneath where he had been standing. "Too slow," Felix had said, the words almost a growl, and the Levin sword swung, yellow and sparking, to gouge a hole in the armor and electrify the man inside. Burnt flesh, acrid and horrifying, scented the air. Annette had fought the urge to cover her nose.

Felix had looked for a second at the knight, now a mass of steel beneath him, and then turned to looked at her. "So. You're alive, after all." 

"Thank you," she had said, hands lowering from her most recent burst of magic. "For, um, coming when you did."

"Do something for your side, you're bleeding." Felix had looked back to the two fights unfolding beside them. "And hurry up if you want to save your father."

Annette had looked hurriedly to where her father was struggling with the last fortress knight. Possibly a combination of the exertion and his age had been catching up with him, and sweat had been running down his brow. She had run forward until Felix's arm suddenly shot out and caught her in the chest.

"Your side," he'd said, words clipped short.

Annette had glanced down and seen that, indeed, her white robes had slowly been staining red. The axe had cleaved the white cloth in a gaping hole. Flesh wound. "I'm fine."

He'd eyed her and then snorted, apparently giving up, and had leaped forward to the fortress knight in front of her father. She had readied herself to dance, to get her father out of danger. Her vision had spotted slightly as she had run forward to her father, the odd dizziness of blood loss, but Annette had danced quickly. 

"Go!" she had told him, and he had quickly moved to the back wall. Felix had, for some reason, had some difficulty with the knight, and so she had readied herself for magic use - pulled her remaining energy into focus - 

"Annette!" Ingrid had yelled, and she had looked upwards to see something streaking towards her in the sky. 

"Annette!" her father had said loudly behind her.

She had been taking quick steps backward, horrified, and then something had crashed into her, heavy and solid, and she had been flung backwards onto the pavement, barely missing cracking her head against the stone of the city wall. Her breath had been gone again, and there had been a heavy pressure on her body as she wheezed and coughed for several seconds, unable to think without breathing, the only color above her an unnatural, dark blue. And then the pressure was gone, and the additional warmth gone with it. Annette had blinked, still wheezing slightly, and tried to sit up. The familiar, medical smell of a vulnerary from beside her, the tinkle of a glass bottle as it was dropped onto the flagstones next to her. Felix had been rolling up from the ground, already holding his sword at the ready, when she finally gathered herself. There had been a gash on his leg, and she had figured it out likely minutes late, but she had finally understood what had happened. Several feet away there had been a terrible crater in the ground, a giant rough-hewn stone in the center of it. Some kind of catapult.

"Thank you," her father had said, perhaps because Annette was clearly still unable to breathe properly.

"Don't waste your breath. Fight." 

A loud clanking of armor sounded from above her, and Annette had stiffened at the telltale sign of an approaching fortress knight. The loud yell of her father, and the crash of metal on metal, clearly had halted him in his tracks.

"Annie!" Mercedes - Annette had looked for the speaker for a second before her eyes finally focused on the familiar face between buildings, apparently standing in the town square. The also-familiar warmth of Physic spread over her, and Annette had sighed, feeling the world come back into focus. She had touched her side - only smooth flesh, no wound - and stood. Felix had been standing slightly in front of her, sword in hand, clearly eying her father's fight. Sylvain and Ingrid had been far further in the distance, Ingrid striking at some distant brigand in the distance and Sylvain following on horseback.

"Felix?" she had asked hesitantly.

"Are you up?" he had said, not turning. A final crash and roar from behind him indicated her father had won.

"Yes." She had nodded, despite the fact that he couldn't see her.

"Good, because three more warriors just appeared. Reinforcements."

"What?" She had looked immediately to the middle distance, had seen that Felix hadn't lied. Three men with axes in tow were running towards them. "Where is Mercie?" she had asked, cutting a glance at her father, who was wheezing as though he had run a race. 

"Heal him, give him a vulnerary," Felix had said, "I don't have one to spare right now."

"I can't heal him," Annette had said, panicking, and feeling for her bag. "Where is my bag with my vulneraries?"

"I don't know," Felix had gritted out beside her. "Annette, focus, they're coming."

"Oh no," she had said, suddenly suspecting that the first sudden throw to the ground that she had suffered had broken the small bottles, that they lay somewhere beneath a mound of fortress knight armor below them.

"Don't worry about me, Annette," her father had said. He had driven his axe against his shield in a loud clang like a bell. "I am fine."

"Dance, will you?" Felix had said shortly to her. "Let's get this over with."

"I'm on it." She had readied herself to dance, and Felix had run forward to the first warrior, had raised the Levin sword. A crash of lightning exploded from the sky and into the man - the smell of acrid flesh - but the man had shaken himself and charged onwards.

Annette had darted forward and danced quickly, the world spinning as she did, and Felix had fought on, cutting one warrior down and readying himself to move to the second. The ending of their battle had been several passes likewise, with Felix fighting twice and Annette keeping him as a defensive wall between herself and whatever warrior they were engaged with. Natural, she had found herself thinking again. Easy. Just like it had been five years ago. And when she had managed to catch sight of Felix's face, he too had been clearly at ease, landing excellent blows far more often than not.

"You fight well together," her father had said, once the last warrior had been slumped on the ground. Felix's chest had been heaving, but he had paused halfway through swiping blood from his face to glance at him, at the way her father had been eyeing them both approvingly. Annette had looked at her father in surprise. 

"Um, thank you," she had said, because Felix had made no other indication he had heard her father, instead removing a glove and using his bare hand to comb his bangs away from his face. "I guess we've done it before."

"Let's go," Felix had said shortly to the both of them. "I thought you had a Relic to obtain."

"Right," she had said quickly, "yes!"

Eventually, they'd been packed into a cart on their way back to the monastery, pretending to be some sort of series of merchant carts to escape from the Dukedom - herself and Felix, Sylvain and Ingrid, Mercedes and Ashe, and the remaining sets of carts their soldiers. The professor and her father had been speaking in quiet tones on horses in front of them. She had been gripping Crusher as though letting go of it would cause it to disappear, and it had been glowing an ominous orange in front of them, bathing everyone's faces in its odd, fluorescent light and lighting the canvas above that was intended to hide them a soft tinge of peach.

"Is everyone sure they're all right?" Mercedes had asked softly. "I still have a few healing spells left in me."

"Ingrid scraped her arm," Sylvain had said, tilting his head at the woman beside him.

"I'm fine," Ingrid had said, rolling her left arm self-consciously. "It was literally just a scrape. Sylvain is being ridiculous."

"Even a scrape can get infected," Mercedes had said lightly, and she had shimmied between Ashe and Ingrid to inspect her arm. "Oh, I see. It isn't that bad, is it?"

"It doesn't even hurt," Ingrid had said, eyeing Sylvain.

"It's a knight's duty to protect the women around him," Sylvain had said, as though quoting something. Ingrid had elbowed his arm, apparently forgetting he was wearing armor, and let out a strangled gasp. "Although maybe with you, that means I have to protect you from yourself, hm?"

"Oh, please. Waste your words on a woman who believes them," Ingrid had said.

"I can help you mend this, you know," Mercedes had said to Ingrid, touching the ripped cloth on her arm. "It won't take long."

"Thank you," Ingrid had said. 

"And I noticed your dress was torn, Annie," Mercedes had said. "I can help."

"I can do it," Annette had said, looking at her. "It's probably good practice for me."

"Mm, let me know if you need help, then," Mercedes had said.

"You should teach Ingrid instead," Sylvain had said. "I'd never seen stitches that looked like a drunkard had done them before, but then I saw Ingrid's old belt."

"Oh, shut up," Ingrid had hissed.

Annette had been content to tilt her head back against the rough wood of the cart around them, feel the gentle creak of the wooden wheels rolling below them, and listen to the quiet bickering of her once classmates, now soldiers-in-arms.

When they had returned to the monastery, Mercedes had caught her wrist quickly before dinner. "I heard, Annie, that Felix saved your life."

"Who said that?" Annette had blinked. For she hadn't said anything, and had hardly expected Felix or her father to mention it. 

"The professor," Mercedes had said, as though this explained everything. (It sort of had. The professor had this uncanny sense of everything on the battlefield, always.)

"Well, he did," Annette had said, slightly adjusting her dress. "I should have been faster, moving out of the way of that rock."

"Hardly sounds like Felix," Mercedes had said, her voice so light that Annette had known only she would have been able to hear the question in it. "Normally, he likes to play lone wolf."

"Um," Annette had avoided eye contact. "I guess it doesn’t."

"Hmm." Mercedes had never been one to press, and she had released Annette's arm without further comment.

Time had passed. His father had joined them, and Felix had been stormy for a week, rarely seen anywhere other than the training grounds and their intermittent war meetings. He had spent most of the first one fiddling with his dagger with such determined fierceness that she had wondered if he would slice himself with it by accident. She had overhead the tail end of an argument between him and Ingrid, in which Felix had scoffed at his father for leaving their territories in the hands of his younger brother. (Annette had tried to avoid the obvious comparison without much success. She, too, had been disappointed in her father.) And one day, she had had the opportunity to meet him, properly - the man who had caused Felix such wrath.

"Miss Dominic," a voice had said from behind her, "a word, if you have the time."

Annette had turned to see - "Oh, um, Lord Rodrigue!" She had quickly bowed. 

"Please. War is hardly the time for such politeness," he had said, in a way that had not been unkind. She could see Felix, in him - in the long hair, and his eyes. But he had not been Felix. And he had never really spoken to her before - not even during a war council- though she had often heard him speak with Sylvain or Ingrid, or even Dimitri.

She had grinned, trying not to show her sudden bout of nerves (for what would he have had to say to her?). "Right! Sorry."

"I have heard from your father that you have been helping my son in battle," he had said. 

Annette had blinked several times, processing the information. It had been true. The professor had often assigned her to dance alongside Felix, for Felix had led (and perhaps himself had been) one of their most devastating units. "O-Oh, that?"

"For that, you have my most sincere thanks," he had said, bowing. His eyes on her when he had straightened had been warm but somewhat distant, as though thinking of something other than her. "My son is reckless in battle, and often overlooks others. Please, I must ask you to forgive him if he has overlooked you."

"Oh." Annette had taken a moment to attempt to reconcile this image of Felix with the one she knew - the one who so readily moved to her side to parry a blow intended for her. "Um. You don't need to thank me at all, Lord Rodrigue! We're all just doing our duty right now."

"Of course," he had said, nodding. "All the same. Felix can be troublesome, and I do deeply appreciate you fighting alongside him."

"It's… it's not a problem at all," Annette had said, not sure what else to say. "He, um, he helps me out a lot in battle, too. So it all evens out."

"He must trust you very much," Rodrigue had said, and this time it had finally seemed as though the man had actually looked at her, instead of somewhere else. "Else he would be complaining near-constantly about you."

"Um." Annette had almost felt herself flush. "Well, I trust him a lot too, I guess."

"Is that so." Lord Rodrigue had nodded at her again, and she had seen the almost-smile on his lips, so similar to the one Felix sometimes sported. "I am glad."

"Um, yes." Annette had fought the urge to shift awkwardly. 

"I must entrust my son to you, then," he had said, and had bowed again. 

"Oh," Annette had raised her hands up as though to quickly wave away that idea, "Um, I -"

"Please, allow an old man this small comfort." Lord Rodrigue had cut her off neatly, this time truly smiling at her.

Annette's resolve (because she really wasn't taking care of Felix, and it had felt oddly intimate to agree to care for him on the battlefield, and it wasn't really like that between them) had wilted at those words. "Well, okay, um, I will do my best."

"Thank you, Miss Dominic." Lord Rodrigue had nodded at her. "I will hold you to that."

"Right," she had said, mostly to herself, as he had walked away. "Okay."

She'd quietly gone up to the professor, later in that week, feeling the weight of that promise, and asked Byleth if she could dance next to Felix during their next battle. The professor had raised an eyebrow at her ("Isn't that what you're doing almost every battle anyways?") and she had flushed, told him she just wanted to check, and it was all really depending on his strategy for the situation at hand, and she was really willing to do whatever, if the professor thought it was best. Byleth had looked at her and nodded slowly, and she had fled from the situation, had spent the next several days distracting herself from what had felt like embarrassing herself in front of the professor by cleaning out the library.

"What are you doing?" 

She had dropped a book in surprise and it had fallen on her foot. "Ow!"

"You could stand to be less clumsy, you know," Felix had said from behind her. 

She had turned, met his gaze head on, had been slightly surprised despite herself at how happy she was to see him. "You - you startled me!"

He'd shifted, one hand on his hip. "Five years and you still can't sense someone's presence. You need to get better at that."

"How can I when you're just so silent?" she had asked. He hadn't responded to that, merely turning to look at the library shelves, so she had bent to pick up the book she had dropped. 

"What are you doing?" he had asked again. "You hardly need to clean out this dump."

"Of course I do!" she had said, turning to look at him indignantly and waving the book in his direction as though it would explain in a way he could understand. The piles of books and the scent of partially rotted wood had probably been enough. "There is so much knowledge here, Felix. What if one of these books has what we need to win the war, but we can't find it because it's buried somewhere in the dust?"

He had rolled his eyes at that, but hadn't said any more. Annette had busied herself with dusting off more books from the floor and setting them on the table beside her. 

"You're getting your gloves dirty," he had remarked from behind her.

"What?" Annette had stopped halfway to dropping another book on the table and looked at herself. Most of her cream jacket sleeves and gloves were coated in grey streaks. Dust and dirt and who knew what else. "Oh. Oh no!"

He had snorted. "You really haven't changed. Even over five years."

Annette's mouth had dropped open, all thoughts of his previous anger forgotten. For surely - surely! - she had become more ladylike over the years. "That - that is _not_ true!"

His mouth had slightly quirked up at one side. "Really."

"I trip less on things now," she had said indignantly, stepping closer to him as though to demonstrate. 

"I saw you fall over a barrel the other day on the bridge to the chapel. The bridge was wide enough for you to pass it three times over. It was like you were _aiming_ for it," Felix had said, folding his arms.

She had flushed. "That - that was a fluke! And - _and,_ Felix - I'll have you know, I've gotten better at cooking without breaking anything. And I - I -"

"And," he had said, and she had almost missed the slight curve of his lips.

"And I am more graceful in general!" she had said, with some finality, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. 

"You just smudged dirt on your face," he had said.

"What!" Annette had touched her face without thinking and then realized she was likely just adding to the mark. "Oh, no."

Felix had snorted. "Remind me how you haven't changed?"

"Oh - oh," Annette had said, flustered, "you just caught me on a bad day, Felix, okay?"

"Right." Felix had sighed, but she had seen the slight tilt of amusement to his mouth and hadn't been able to stop herself from smiling slightly as well, despite herself. He had sighed again but taken a step forward. "Here. Don't move."

"Hm?" She had looked up at him and then had stopped dead as his hand moved to her face. She had been able to feel the warmth of his hand through the leather as his hand cradled the side of her head. She had been frozen by it, and by the way he was studying her cheek with a furrow in his brow, his face closer to hers than perhaps would be proper. His gloved thumb rubbed her cheekbone for a few seconds, and then he had looked back at her. She had fought the sudden urge to swallow, at his eyes on hers, so close to her face, the sudden heat that suffused her. (And his cheekbones, his eyelashes, the way his hair was falling around his face and framing it, close enough that the longer ends of it almost brushed her head.)

He'd suddenly released her face and turned away. "You might as well look as though you've changed," he had said. 

"What?" she had asked, not entirely capable of processing his words. 

He had scoffed. "Aren't ladies supposed to carry handkerchiefs and crap for that kind of thing?"

"Oh - oh! Um. Right. Yes. Sorry to, um. To make you do that." Annette had flushed and turned back to the bookshelves, immediately reaching for one near to her as though for comfort, or stability, or normalcy. (For who did things like that, really? Certainly not Felix. Maybe Sylvain. But not Felix.)

"Whatever," Felix had said. "I'm going to go to the training grounds."

"Um, okay," Annette had responded, to the bookshelves. And then, when she was certain he had left, she had pressed her hands into her face in disbelief, as though she could calm her blush into submission. (And then she had realized, belatedly, that she had just left grey handprints on her face.) She had rubbed at her face with the edges of her cloak, had muttered something to Ingrid about an accident in the library when the pegasus knight's eyebrows shot up at seeing her.

The next few weeks, Annette had found it difficult to focus. She had almost missed several key points at the following few war councils because she had found herself looking at Felix, thinking of the feeling of his hand on her face, what would have happened if she had gone up on her tiptoes to press her face closer to his, or if he had leaned in instead of turned away. She had found herself lingering in the training ground, had accidentally sprained her ankle because she'd fallen over a crate when his eyes had met hers from across the dining hall and she had found herself unable to look away.

And then the battle at Gronder Field, and all that came after it, had come to pass. Annette had not been there, when Felix had been told of his father's death, but she had recognized his total absence from the rest of the monastery, had noticed him not coming to meals. And so, despite the worries that this had not been her place, that really this should have been dealt with by Sylvain, or Ingrid, she had gone to the kitchens and asked for some food to bring to him.

"Um, excuse me," Annette had said quietly. Felix's door had been closed, and the hallway she had travelled through to get to his room had mercifully been empty. There had been no response, so Annette had cleared her throat and spoken up. "Excuse me, Felix?"

"What?" 

"I, um, have some dinner, Felix. If you want some."

Silence.

Annette had fumbled slightly for words, feeling the weight of her lack of familiarity with him, despite all the time they had spent together. "It's, um, Annette! If you want it, I can bring it in, but if you would rather, I can leave it on the floor here, or -"

Felix had opened the door, effectively cutting her off. She'd met his eyes, but had seen no trace of tears or anguish. "You can come in."

"Thank you," she had said, swallowing. Grief. She had not experienced it too heavily herself. Her family was all still alive, and she had not yet lost a close friend to the war. She had not known exactly how she was going to speak with him. It had been so like Felix, to not grieve openly, and yet she had not known how to address it.

She had been moving to maneuver around him and into the room, going slowly because of the food, when he had reached out and taken the tray from her. "Let me. You're going to spill this on the floor."

"I - I didn't spill it yet, and I came all the way from the kitchens," she had said, aiming for lighthearted but not quite making it.

"Mm." He had paused while lowering it to his desk, clearly noticing the second plate of food. "Are you…"

"Well, I'm not sure if you want company right now," Annette had said, quickly, trying to get her piece out before she was rejected, "so if you want me to go I am not going to be offended at all, I totally understand, just, you know, if you wanted -"

"You can eat here," he had said, interrupting her. "It's fine."

"Oh." Annette had taken a second to process that. "Okay. Um, thanks." 

"Don't thank me." Felix had set the tray down with a clink of china.

She hadn't known what to say to that but had carefully stepped over to him and the food, as though to walk faster would startle him.

He had been silent for a moment, looking at the plates before him but clearly not really seeing them. Annette had inched closer to the desk, gathered one of the bowls of soup and a spoon, and handed it to him. "Here."

Felix had taken it from her almost mechanically. "Thanks."

"Um, I can eat standing up if you want to take the chair," Annette had said hesitantly.

He'd finally looked at her. "No. I can sit on the bed. Take the chair."

They had sat, Annette having moved the chair to face him. There had been another short, protracted silence, before Felix had spoken again, setting his untouched bowl at the table set by his headboard. "We may as well get this over with. You want to ask me about how I'm doing after my father died. Don't waste your breath. I'm fine."

"You…" Annette had fiddled with the soup spoon in her fingers. "You don't have to just say you're fine, you know."

"What use is moaning about it?" he had said, shaking his head. "It's over. The old man is dead."

Annette had frowned at him despite the fact that she had known he had been purposefully coarse. "You can let yourself be upset about it, Felix."

"I'm not here to share my feelings," Felix had said, his eyes narrowing. 

Annette had felt herself tense at the chill in his words, but had braced herself. "Well, I mean, I understand if maybe you don't want to share them with me. But everyone is worried about you. Maybe Ingrid, or Sylvain -"

"Do you seriously think I would want to speak with Sylvain about this?" Felix had snorted. "Besides, there's nothing to share. My father is dead. There's no more use thinking of it."

Annette had shut her mouth, looking at the soup below her, growing cold. For she really had not known what to say to that. 

Felix had shifted in front of her, the telltale clink of the clasps on his coat giving it away. She hadn't looked up. He had sighed, one of those aggrieved, so-help-me-Goddess ones he made only when he was frustrated with himself. "Stop looking like a puppy that just got kicked by a horse."

"I just…" Annette had looked at him, trying not to look upset but clearly failing based on the mildly uncomfortable look on his face. "I'm just worried about you, okay? You haven't gone to the dining hall in days, and we're all worried about you, so will you eat, please?"

Felix had looked away. "Fine."

"Okay." Annette had made the conscious effort to begin eating as well, as though this would encourage him, despite the fact that the conversation had also made her less than hungry. The soup had been somewhat bland, but the cooks had told her he would want something bland after barely eating. And when she'd looked up, Felix had started to eat as well.

When he had been finished with the soup, Felix had eaten both bread rolls Annette had brought (Annette had still been unable to finish her soup and had wordlessly handed hers over), as well as one of the smaller meat pies the cooks had left on the tray. After setting his bowl aside, he had finally leaned back against the wall his bed was flush against, his chin tipped upwards as he looked at the ceiling.

She'd been fiddling with the soup spoon between sips of the broth that she was still trying to choke down when Felix had finally spoken. "I didn't know they let you do this, take food and plates from the dining hall."

"Well, I, um, I kind of got familiar with some of kitchen staff," Annette had said, pausing, somewhat surprised he had broken the silence. "Um. When I used to, you know, practice cooking there."

"You mean when you used to set fires there?"

"Felix," she had said, but it hadn't been angry.

"Thanks." He had tilted his head down to look at her. "For the food."

"Oh, it's no problem." Annette had smiled, then. "I just wanted to help. In any way I could, I guess."

"In any way, huh?" Felix had folded his arms.

Annette had waited, wondering if there was something else he was going to say.

"I… have a favor to request, then," Felix had said.

"Oh! Okay." Annette had straightened. "What is it?"

"You… will you sing?" Felix had been staring at the ceiling, very clearly avoiding her eyes.

"What?" 

He had made a low huffing noise, and when he had spoken, it had been quiet. "Please don't make me repeat that."

"You… want me to sing?" Annette had almost not believed her ears. "Really? Right now?"

He had made another uncomfortable noise. "Just… will you?" His ears had gone red. Annette had felt a sudden stab of something warm and fleeting and hopeful in her chest, worrying in its intensity.

"Um. Okay!" Annette had sat further forward in the chair, took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and then suddenly had succumbed to a stab of self-consciousness. "Um, this is kind of embarrassing. I don't normally sing in front of people."

Felix hadn't said anything to that, and Annette had taken another deep breath. "But, I guess that doesn't matter. Um, I guess I can sing about… the swamp beasties. If that's okay."

"That… works." He had been looking at the table beside him the whole time instead of at her, but the tension in his shoulders had faded slightly.

She had taken a moment to gather herself and remember all the words, and then had launched into it, feeling herself go red at the particularly silly parts. When she had finished, they had sat in silence for a minute or two. Annette had fidgeted but been unwilling to move.

"Well, isn't there one about the library you mentioned the other day?" 

"You want me to sing another?" Annette had been at a temporary loss. "I'm - I mean, I'm not like Dorothea, or anything. It - I mean, I'm really not that good."

"It - Just do it, will you?" Felix had raised his hand to partially cover his face, scrubbing at his bangs. 

"Um. I guess if you want me to," Annette had felt the corners of her mouth turn upwards, because she had known he had been enjoying it, even if she had known she could have had him at the end of a sword and he still would never have admitted it. "I can sing about the library, too."

She had sworn, later, that she had heard him humming one of her songs later in the month, when he had finally shown up to the dining hall, had tried and failed to stop the irrepressible smile. When he had finally shown up to a war council, the only people he had spoken to were Dimitri (in a fit of cold fury), Sylvain (classically irate), Ingrid (more subtly annoyed), and herself (in a way that had almost been peaceable, for him). 

For her part, Annette had found herself bumping into things more often, thinking about him. She had whacked her head on the underside of the table when he had dropped into his seat at a war council while she was tying her boots and she had tried far too quickly to try to say hello. (He had laughed, almost, at that, but his fingers had grazed the back of her head gently when he had told her she needed to at least _try_ to be more careful.) She had almost spilled a cup of tea all over Mercedes when Mercedes had made an off-hand comment about how well Annette and Felix had been getting along, had tried not to immediately ask Mercedes if she thought that maybe - maybe - there could be something there. (Because it had been wartime. Annette had been trying to focus on that, but it had been hard, because every time she thought about the war she had been distracted by thoughts of his face, or his smile, or the way he had carefully lifted her up from the sands of the training ground when she had tripped in front of him, touching her as though she was delicate.)

And the next week, there had been another accident. She had tripped. Again. (It was easiest said that way.)

(The hard thing to explain had been the aftermath. Because the tripping, in and of itself, was not unusual. Annette had been able to admit to herself that she was unfortunately fully capable of falling on a good day, and seemed naturally prone to it on a bad one. But the aftermath. That had really been the problem.)

It had been an unusual day - Ashe had requested her to help spar with him, if she wouldn't mind practicing her swordsmanship. (She hadn't.) When they had arrived at the training grounds, laughing at something silly, Felix had already been there, going through drills with a practice dummy. He'd barely looked up at their arrival, meeting her eyes for a split second before returning to his drills. 

They had been running through basic exercises, she and Ashe, when Felix had abandoned the wooden dummy to walk over to them.

"I thought you used bows, Ashe."

"A knight should be well-rounded!" Ashe had said with a grin. "All the best knights are, at least."

Felix had snorted. "I see."

Annette had smiled at him (or, really, had been unable to resist the smile upon seeing him). "Hi, Felix."

Felix had nodded at her. If she had imagined that his eyes had been a touch warmer when he'd looked at her, she could only have faulted herself. "Annette."

"Maybe you can give us some pointers," Ashe had said, gesturing to Felix. "I'd really appreciate it."

"The best way to learn is to fight," Felix had responded, flicking the sword in his hand in a practiced gesture. 

"You may be right," Ashe had said, but his expression had gone slightly introspective. "Hm. I hardly think in battle is the time to practice using a sword, though."

"I meant now." Felix had rolled his eyes. "Sparring." 

"Oh," Ashe had said, brightening and turning to Annette. "Annette, I'd be happy to practice."

"I meant the three of us," Felix had said again, before Annette had the chance to respond. "Two on one. It'll even your odds."

"Oh, that's a good idea!" Ashe had said, grinning. "Yes. Good idea, Felix."

Annette had looked between him and Felix, had turned her sword over in her hands. "Okay, sure."

Felix had sunk into his normal fighting position. She recognized it well, remembered how he had hesitantly touched her leg to make her move into the stance. Something in the memory had made her almost smile (her embarrassment, so acutely). 

"Let's go," Ashe had told Annette with a grin, and then he had run towards Felix. But swords had never been Ashe's strong suit, and he had soon been knocked to the sand. Annette, for her part, had narrowed her eyes at Felix. The motion had apparently amused Felix, for a small smile spread on his face. 

"Come on, Annette," he had said, his voice just enough… something… to feel almost like a challenge.

She'd run forwards, raising her sword, and then her foot had hit something that had had absolutely no traction against the sand. In that moment, Annette had immediately realized two things: one, she had recognized what she had stepped on as the blunt, flat edge of Ashe's sword, which had been knocked away from him, and two, she recognized (as she often did before she hit the ground) that she was absolutely going to fall instead of deliver a strike to Felix's shoulder. 

What she hadn't realized was how directly she was going to fall into him. 

Felix had grunted as she had effectively barreled into him, her face directly into his chest, and she had heard the familiar thunk of metal on sandy floor as he had dropped his sword and his arms had come up around her as though to catch her. Her inertia had unfortunately made the idea of him just catching her impossible, as she'd driven him backwards and onto the ground and they had both fallen with a jarring impact, the blow somewhat lessened for Annette by the weight of him below her. 

It had only been few seconds before Annette had moved to get up or away, but she had felt even in that small amount of time the warmth of Felix's body below her, the hard planes of his chest and stomach against her. One of his hands had ended up resting on her lower back, the other almost grazing the back of her neck. She had felt sudden heat gather in her, had had the uncomfortable realization of how closely their hips were aligned, how compromising the position probably looked.

It had been this last thought that had forced her to immediately press upwards from the ground, and from him, and caused them to meet eyes. She had recognized how shallowly they were both breathing, how his cheeks had been tinged the slightest bit red. She had been opening her mouth to apologize frantically, but the look on his face had frozen her, the way his pupils had been blown wide, how his eyes had seemed dark on hers. The way he hadn't immediately pushed her off of him and complained about her clumsiness, how his hands hadn't moved from their positions on her despite the fact that she had moved.

"Annette," he had said, his voice slightly hoarse. She had felt something in her constrict at the tone, at the way his eyes were staring at her with an intensity she had never seen before. She had opened her mouth but no words had come to her, and she had known, suddenly, that instead of moving off of him, she wanted to bend down and --

"Are you both all right? That was quite a fall!" Ashe.

Annette had practically bolted into a standing position, as though she had been shocked by the Levin sword, only narrowly avoiding stepping on Felix as she did so. "Fine! I'm fine!" She had simultaneously felt herself flush from the roots of her hair to her neck, had quickly walked away from both of them to face one of the walls of the training ground as though the row of destroyed practice dummies leant against the wall could prove enough distraction to stop - remembering. 

She had heard Felix get up from the ground, heard the pop of one of his joints and the shifting of his clothes as he stood. "I'm fine."

"Annette, I'm so sorry about my sword," Ashe had said.

"She's liable to trip on the sand," Felix had said flatly, and whatever had been in his voice when he had said her name had been gone. "Hardly worth apologizing over."

"I'm sorry!" Annette had said, hearing how loudly she was speaking but unable to stop herself. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's hardly surprising," Felix had said from behind her. 

She had flushed, again, at his voice and how it had reminded her of how close they had been, how his body had felt on hers, and how incredibly inappropriate it would have looked for her father to have walked in at that moment.

Ashe had laughed and she had recognized it as a slightly discomfited one. "I see."

Annette really hadn't been able to bring herself to turn around, even though she knew - she knew - that she was definitely making the situation more uncomfortable. The crunch of sand behind her had made her stiffen slightly.

"You dropped this," Felix's voice had said from behind her. 

She had turned around. He had been holding her sword out to her, but she had been entirely unable to look up and see his expression. Annette had reached out and taken the sword, tried to keep her voice fairly steady. "Thank you."

He had made an odd noise in his throat, as though clearing it. "Don't thank me."

She had done her best not to fiddle with the sword and then had finally given in to the urge to disappear, all sense of propriety and of trying to make things less uncomfortable thrown aside. "Um. I think I'm going to go, um, clean up the library."

"Annette," Felix had said, something almost worried in his voice, but she had already turned around and had been walking quickly away.

Really, she had fled. She'd slipped out of the training grounds and had practically run to her room, slammed the door behind her and dropped her sword on the wooden floor and then sunk to the ground beside it. She had run away. She had run away. She had pressed her hands into her face because she was such an idiot, to think of _anything_ during a war besides _war._ She was one of the Kingdom army's generals. If she didn't focus, people would die. She would get injured, like her sprained ankle from the previous month, or cause issues on the battlefield by looking at a certain sword user instead of focusing on her own squadron. If she spent time thinking about anything besides her magic, and her sword-fighting, and gradually learning to use Crusher, she would be underprepared and useless. If she spent time idyllically dreaming of… of Ashe having not been there, in the training ground, and whatever Felix had been intending to say -

She had pinched her leg, hard, until it had smarted. She would no longer spend so much time - so much time resting, or dreaming. It was her duty to work hard, and to not think of anything else other than the war. And she had already spent far too much time with him, allowing her own thoughts to compromise her training, and her preparations. Enough had been enough.


	3. Part II, Continued

She had avoided him for weeks. The war effort had ebbed and flowed, but she had spent much of it in her rooms, or in the greenhouse, or practically anywhere but the training grounds. She had taken to going to one of the small wooded areas outside of the monastery walls to train, sometimes bringing Mercedes with her for company and for the occasional healing spell. At war meetings she had taken to completely avoiding Felix's eyes, to leaving as soon as the meetings were over (and she had avoided, too, the eyes of some of their former classmates, who had clearly been curious at the sudden change in behavior). And all in all, Annette had been miserable.

Even so, she had believed that she could not be distracted - not if she believed in winning this war. People’s lives had been at stake, and she had no business being distracted from it; she had to give her all to the fight. Annette did not do things halfway, and thinking about Felix had been something that felt all-too-consuming, consuming enough that it would make anything else in her life seem small in comparison. 

Her father had approached her, briefly, about it. It had been one of the most uncomfortable conversations of her life. Annette had almost scrubbed the memory from her brain entirely, had done her best to only remember general things - it had involved some extremely uncomfortable throat-clearing from her father, and something about whether she was all right, and something about not letting her personal life invade the war. Annette had not been willing to listen, had said something quiet and upset ("Like the way you separated your work and your personal life, Father?") and had run away from that relationship, too. 

Finally, she hadn't been able to run any longer. Felix had found her makeshift training ground.

"So, this is where you've been practicing."

Annette had accidentally let go of the wind spell she had been readying herself to release, and it spun off to the right, knocking down a tiny birch instead of sailing directly ahead. "F-Felix."

He had been standing beside a tree, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at her. "I suppose it's more like what fighting in a real battle might be like, if we were fighting in a forest."

She had toed a tuft of grass below her feet, her words failing her for once. Somehow, she hadn't expected him to find her – to even bother trying to find her, after she knew she’d been so rude to him, and so unlike herself.

"You've been avoiding me," Felix had said, as blunt as ever. 

"No, I haven't!" Annette had turned to look at him, had known even as she said it that he would be able to see through her easily.

He had snorted. "Don't lie to me."

"I -" Annette had wilted, looking back at the ground, but hadn't been willing to agree. "No, I haven't."

He had scoffed. She hadn't needed to look at him to know the exact expression on his face. "If you don't want to talk to me, I hardly care. But you're concerning other people. Not to mention acting like a child."

Annette had turned away, slightly, feeling frustrated tears prickling at her eyes. She had tried to not think about how he had just told her that he didn't care if she was around, that he didn't care if they spoke, or interacted. That he hardly cared about her at all. "I am _not_ a child."

Felix had snorted again. "Only children run away from things, Annette."

"I am not running away!" Annette had swiped a hand over her eyes to fight the rising tears, trying to be surreptitious. "I just - I just need to focus right now, Felix, okay?"

"Focus?" Felix had scoffed. The clear condescension in his voice had caused more tears to rise to her eyes. "Really. And avoiding practically everyone in the monastery is helping you _focus_?"

"I just - I don't expect you to understand." Annette's voice had grown watery, but she still had fought for composure.

"Understand what?" Felix had sounded rather as though he would have liked to walk up to her and shake her. "You need to focus on training? On the war? How is hitting a tree with a Cutting Gale spell going to train you for a war? You never speak up in war meetings anymore and so our strategy is suffering. You barely train with anyone anymore and so your fighting skills are suffering. You're being a child."

Annette had spun around on her heels, ignoring how red her face had been, finally angry. "I am not a child, Felix. Just because you don't understand doesn't mean you get to criticize me!"

"Explain your logic to me, then. How, exactly, are you not acting like a child?" Felix's stormy expression hadn't wavered at her tears. 

"I -" Annette had finally given in, ignoring pride. "I'm avoiding you, you jerk, because I can't - I just can't focus, okay?"

"Because you can't focus," Felix had repeated, as though the words were ridiculous.

"I need to focus on the war effort, and not focus on - on - I just can't be around you right now!” Annette had been flushed, and teary, and she had run her hands under her eyes to clear her vision.

“So you’re saying it’s my fault you’re acting like an imbecile?” Felix had scoffed.

Annette had shaken her head quickly. “It’s – It’s not your fault.”

“So what is it then?” 

Annette had shaken her head again, as though it would help her clear it. "I – I just can’t think about anything other than the war, because we’re so close to finishing this, and we can’t afford to think about anything other than the war, right now, okay?”

“And isolating yourself in the forest is thinking about the war?” Felix had huffed out a breath of exasperation.

“You – You just don’t understand, you jerk!” Annette had finally broken down, her emotions running too high to regulate her tongue. “I just – I just can't spend time with you because then I just don't think about the war anymore, I just keep thinking about you!"

Felix had looked rather as though she had struck him directly with a Bolt Axe. "What?"

Annette had felt tears start to fall again, despite her best efforts. "I don't expect you to understand!"

Felix's expression, whatever it had been, had been unintelligible from behind the veil of tears in her eyes, and Annette had taken the silence as a dismissal, had flown past him back to the monastery.

Mercedes had been the one to find her. Annette had been crying into her bed, despite the fact that she was an adult, and a general of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and altogether someone who had absolutely _no time_ to be wasting crying over a _boy_ during a _war_. Mercedes hadn't asked questions, had just gathered her in her arms and let Annette cry until Mercedes's jacket was damp. And when Annette had finally tired herself out enough to sleep, she had awoken to freshly made croissants, something almost sinfully indulgent for wartime’s dearth of supplies. 

Several days later, when she had finally been able to rouse herself from practically locking herself in her room, the professor had called her over in the dining hall and asked her to bring her squadron to go on patrol outside the monastery as there had been reports of bandits in the area. She had been unbelievably grateful to be given a reason to leave the monastery. (For, by the Goddess, she had been so embarrassed, so uncomfortable. She had just spoke without thinking, and she had just told Felix that she thought of him all the time, and she had yelled at him and he had yelled at her, and it had been another one of her many, explosive mistakes, and he thought she was a child, and besides that, now probably thought she was insane, or extremely foolish. And she had practically confessed to him, and he had only reacted with horrified shock.)

In retrospect, she could not remember much of what had happened during the patrol. Something had, of course, gone wrong. The bandits had far outclassed the usual bandits that unfortunately roamed Fodlan during wartime, and she had been gored by a lance and tumbled to the ground, hitting her head against a rock. (She had had to be told so by her squadron; her last memory was of minutes before her fall, the crash of fighting all around her.)

She had awoken in the infirmary. The familiar white sheets, tented around the beds to allow for some privacy, had notified her of that. Mercedes had been perched on a small stool to the left of her bed, humming something off-key as she had slipped a needle through some piece of ripped clothing in her lap.

"Mercie?" she had croaked, her own voice sounding horrible to her ears.

"Annie!" Mercedes had immediately dropped the needle and met her eyes. "Oh, you're awake."

"My head," Annette had said weakly.

"You certainly had quite a nasty fall, didn't you? You gave yourself quite the concussion." Mercedes had been smiling, had held up a hand as soon as Annette's mouth had opened to ask the question that had felt inevitable. "Now, I don't want you worrying. Your squadron mostly managed to fight off the bandits."

"Oh, Mercie." Annette had looked at Mercedes with no small amount of relief, feeling the beginnings of heat behind her eyes. "I can't believe I'm still alive."

"You should thank Felix," Mercedes had said.

"Felix?" Annette had looked at her friend and then to the sheets covering her legs. "What? Was he the person who found me?" 

"Yes." Mercedes had nodded without hesitation. "Your squadron hadn't come back, and it had been a while, so he volunteered to go check on you."

Annette had slumped slightly over her knees. For of course he had been the one to find her. Of course, when she would be at her weakest, right after that terrible conversation, he would find her - looking ridiculous and a mess and unconscious on the ground, leaving her soldiers by themselves, demonstrating how, in all ways, she was a pathetic commander, and not the graceful, strong leader she wanted to be.

"You know, Annie," Mercedes had said, "Felix carried you all the way here."

"What?" Annette had turned to look at her friend so quickly she almost had given herself whiplash.

"Mm-hm." Mercedes had met her eyes. "Wouldn't let anyone touch you, bit the head off of the gatekeeper when he wasn't rolling up the gates fast enough, burst through the entrance hall and scared Gilbert half to death, what with you trailing blood and Felix looking like he was going to kill anyone who so much as got in his way."

"What?" Annette had asked again, hardly believing her ears.

"He took you all the way to Manuela and practically forced her to stop caring for everyone else to make sure you were fine." Mercedes had been smiling, but Annette could tell now how carefully Mercedes was watching her, for her reaction. "And then he didn't leave the second floor until - well, Seteth practically had to force him to get some sleep. He was just pacing up and down the hallway for hours."

"You - um. Are you serious, Mercie?" Annette had asked, feeling her mouth go dry.

"Oh, I am." Mercedes had nodded. "I saw him pacing myself. He was still covered in blood. Wouldn't change or anything."

"That's…" Annette had stared at the white sheets covering her legs in silence.

"Sylvain said that he'd never seen him act like that before." Mercedes had said, folding her hands in her lap. 

"The boy was a full-on wreck," Manuela's voice had said loudly from the back of the room, and Annette had jumped, not having realized the woman was there. "I haven't seen a man that far gone since I used to sing at the Mittelfrank. And I had lovers in spades, back then. Attracted them like flies to honey!"

Annette hadn't known exactly what to do with that information. Mercedes had raised a hand over her mouth. Annette had known this was a sign Mercedes was trying to suppress a laugh.

"Gone?" Annette had repeated, a touch quieter, so that the question was for Mercedes alone.

Mercedes had smiled very slightly behind her hand. "Oh, Annie. It's so obvious."

"What is?" Annette had flushed slightly, at the joke that was apparently at her expense.

"Oh, I can't tell you that." Mercedes had shaken her head. "It's probably something you should figure out yourself."

"Come now," Manuela had said, striding over so she was in Annette's field of view. "Really, dear?"

Annette had looked at her. Manuela apparently had read something in her eyes and threw up her hands. "I forget how young all of you are. Ugh. Young love really is wasted on the young."

"Manuela," Mercedes's voice had been lightly chiding, but her lips had still been slightly curved upwards.

Annette hadn't needed a mirror to know she'd gone a shade redder than her hair, had felt something terribly and fearfully hopeful unfurl in her chest. "Th-That - it's, it's not…"

"Please," Manuela had said, rolling her eyes and stalking to the other side of the room, moving around medicine bottles with such force that they sounded like she might accidentally break one. "That boy never looks at any wound twice, pretends he cares about absolutely no one, and then _bridal carries_ you through the front door of the monastery with everyone watching just because you got knocked unconscious with a flesh wound, and you're telling me there's _nothing there_?"

Annette had felt herself redden further with every word, the hopeful feeling in her chest unfurling further, strong and painful - so painful that Annette had felt the need to deny it. "It, um, m-maybe it didn't… look like a flesh wound."

"I can't stand this." Manuela had turned right around, her sleeves flying upwards, and stalked back to Annette, who flinched at her sudden, pressing glare. "This is war, and you two twenty-something youngsters are wasting your time dancing around one another. Just go! Go declare your love for one another in some stupid, simpering fashion! Go make love in a supply closet or something! I'm sick of listening to this."

Annette had covered her face with her hands, letting out a small squeak of utter embarrassment. (And because it wasn’t true. Because Felix hadn’t reacted in the forest – hadn’t reacted well.) Mercedes had laid a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "That's hardly appropriate, Manuela. And, to be fair, it wasn't a flesh wound. Felix was right to be swift in bringing her back."

"A waste!" Manuela had said loudly, and the click of her heels had been staccato and sharp as she had practically stomped from the room. 

Annette hadn't been able to look up. She had thought again of the training ground, and of Felix’s reaction. But, if she had been honest with herself, what had happened in the training ground, his reaction, had likely been hormones. It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t. It was being in your early twenties and having someone fall on top of you. (Or was that really true? She had fallen on and around many people, unfortunately, over her lifespan. And she didn’t think anyone had quite looked at her like he had.) But attraction wasn’t love. (But attraction, something that sounded a lot like Manuela’s voice had said in her mind, does not necessitate bridal carrying someone directly past their _father_.)

"Don't worry about her," Mercedes had said, her voice quiet. 

"You think so too." Annette had said. "You do, don't you?"

Mercedes's hand had squeezed Annette's shoulder. "If I did, and if I was right, would it be a bad thing?"

"Felix doesn't like me," Annette had said, mostly into her knees, mostly because the hopeful, terrible feeling in her chest had to be suppressed before it took over every single one of her waking thoughts. And because he had told her he didn't care, and so the feeling was a waste. And because they were at war, not at school, and not nobles in courtship in a ballroom somewhere in Fhirdiad. "I… I know he doesn't."

Mercedes hadn't responded for a minute, had moved her hand to rub Annette's back. "I'm not sure what to say, Annie. If I'm guessing correctly, and he was the reason you cried last week, I don't want to argue with you. But I also saw his expression, you know, when Manuela said you were going to be fine. I don't think I've ever seen him look so relieved."

Annette had shaken her head again. There was too much to think about. "I… I don't know."

"I guess you don't have to know," Mercedes had said simply. "You could ignore it forever, if you wanted to."

The answer had been so unexpected that Annette had finally looked up to see Mercedes gazing back at her. "What?"

Mercedes had sighed. "I don't know why you're so upset, Annie. You haven't told me. So if you really don't think he is interested in you, in the slightest bit, I won't disagree. I won't ever bring up any of this again, I'll never mention Felix's reaction, and we don't ever need to wonder about what he thought or felt. Maybe that will help. But what I do know is that Felix sometimes says things he doesn't mean. So if he said something cruel to you, while he shouldn't have, it might not be true."

"He - He called me a child." Annette had felt tears rise in her eyes at the memory. "I'm not a child, Mercie. I'm a grown adult leading a squadron in a war. But all I did by getting hurt is prove I am a kid. I haven't grown up. I'm not ready to lead, and I'm so, so, stupid, and I've made all these mistakes -"

"Oh, Annie." Mercedes had gathered her into a hug, effectively cutting off her speech. "Shh."

"And he told me," Annette had said, barely audible through Mercedes's shirt, "he said he didn't care if I ever spoke to him again."

"Oh, that Felix," Mercedes had said, the words almost a sigh. 

"And I just - I really like him, Mercie," Annette had said, catching her breath between sobs, still mostly muffled by Mercedes's shoulder. "I really do."

"Oh, Annie." This time, Mercedes had sighed so heavily it had stirred Annette's hair. "I know."

"I'm so stupid. And everyone thinks he could… I mean, that we…" Annette had shaken her head, tears choking her words. 

"Hush," Mercedes had said. "Now, we focus on getting you better. Tomorrow, maybe we think about Felix. Okay?"

It had taken only about a half hour for Annette to fall back asleep, exhausted equally by her wounds and by her tears. She had awoken, blearily, to an argument above her, sometime later, after night had fallen, for only dim moonlight had shone through the window to her left.

"- right now," Mercedes had said, her voice so quiet it had almost been a whisper.

"Well, why not?" Felix. Annette had stiffened, but fought not to move, fought to keep her eyes closed (for if she had been asleep, he couldn't speak with her).

"She doesn't want to talk to you," Mercedes had said. Annette's eyes had almost opened at the words.

"What?" Felix's voice had raised slightly, and his word was quickly followed by a shush from Mercedes. When he had spoken again, however, it hadn't been much quieter. "What the hell does that mean?"

"She had a terrible day yesterday, and I am not convinced you would make it better, right now." (This time Annette's eyes really had opened in shock, if only for a moment. Because Mercedes never said such things.)

Felix had made an odd coughing noise. "Look. I just - I need to see her."

"She is perfectly fine," Mercedes had said, quiet and composed. "And she will see you when she wants to, when she's not asleep."

"Who the hell made you her guard dog?" Felix's voice had been annoyed.

"I like you, Felix," Mercedes had said, completely evenly. "And I really, really do thank you for bringing her here so quickly, and making sure she made it safely. You don’t know what that means to me. But right now, my best friend is recovering."

"You just said she's 'perfectly fine.'" The sarcasm in Felix's voice was almost biting.

"People don't only have to recover from physical injuries, you know." Annette hadn't needed to see Mercedes's face to know exactly the older-sister expression on it. “Sometimes it hurts just as much to think that people don’t care about us as it does to get struck with a lance.”

Felix had made another strangled scoffing noise.

"I think an apology might help her recover pretty nicely, though." Mercedes's tone had been almost kindly. “Maybe setting some things straight?”

There had been a few moments of silence. 

"Do keep it in mind, okay, Felix?" The shift of clothing against wood had notified Annette that Mercedes had turned around, and Annette had immediately focused on feigning sleep, keeping her breathing even.

There had been another beat of silence. And then: "I got it, okay? You don't need to repeat yourself."

Mercedes had almost giggled, a breathy, quiet noise. "I'm sure I don't."

When Annette had woken again, it had been daytime, light streaming in from one of the windows in the infirmary. Her head had felt leagues better, as though she could finally think clearly. The exchange between Mercedes and Felix had felt like a fuzzy dream, something so bizarre it could not have been real in the bright light of the morning. 

Annette had sat up, wiping a hand across her eyes, noting no one seated in front of her. Hungry, and ready to get out of the infirmary, Annette had swung her legs to the side of the bed and drawn back one of the white curtains around the bed --- and met eyes with Felix, who had been standing at the other end of the room, hands clearly having just stopped fiddling with a dagger.

Annette had immediately drawn the curtain back so that she couldn't see him, had stared at the white fabric in front of her as though it could erase the fact that he had been there, and she had had no idea what she had wanted to say to him. 

"Annette," he had said. 

"G-Give me a minute," she had said, but before she could clear her mind the curtain had been wrenched from her hand and pushed back, revealing Felix directly before her.

"You're avoiding me," he had said. His eyebrows had lowered, something almost worried in his expression. "Stop it."

"I'm - I'm not avoiding you," she had said quickly, and then had given in when his expression had darkened considerably. "Um. Okay. Maybe a little bit."

"You're feeling better," he had said, not exactly a question. 

Annette had looked to her feet. There had been too much to think about, but this question had been doable. "Um. Because of you, Mercie said. So... Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he had said abruptly. 

Annette had ducked her head slightly. "I'm sorry you… had to do that."

"Don't." He had waved the apology away. 

Annette had attempted to take a moment to try to think, and gather herself, but he had continued. 

“About the forest,” he had said, and Annette had frozen in place. _Goddess._ She had felt her ears grow red. 

"I'm sorry." 

The words, from Felix, had been so unexpected that Annette had finally looked up to see him clearly.

"About what I said." Felix hadn’t met her eyes. "I didn't… I mean, I didn't mean to make you think I dislike you. If that's how you took it."

Annette had paused again. "Oh."

Felix had cleared his throat. “Also, your argument was stupid.”

“What?” Annette had blinked at him, thrown by the sudden change in conversation.

Felix had frowned at her. “I said, your argument was stupid. You were avoiding me because you couldn’t stop thinking about me?”

Annette had felt red bloom from her cheeks to her neck to her ears. “J-Just forget I said anything, okay! I – I was upset, and I didn’t think, and – and just ignore the whole thing.”

“I’m not just going to _forget,_ ” Felix had said. “You expect me to forget you avoided me for almost three weeks and then yelled about how you were avoiding me because you _thought_ about me?”

“W-Well, when you say it like that,” Annette had said, helplessly. 

Felix had soldiered on. “Nothing you did made any _sense._ ”

“You can just ignore it, okay!” Annette had flushed a deeper red.

“I can’t just ignore it.” Felix had shot her a look. “What you said sounded like you think we can’t win this war if you spend time with me. It doesn’t make any sense. We fight well together, and you never bother me when we train.”

“That’s…” Annette had fidgeted. “I don’t know, I -”

“You’re the only person here who doesn’t get on my nerves.” Felix had shaken his head. “Look, if you want to avoid me, apparently I can’t stop you. But it’s foolish to think that you avoiding anyone is going to help us win the war.”

“I’m… I’m really sorry, Felix.” Annette had covered her face again. “I… know I was being stupid.”

Felix hadn’t responded, and she hadn’t been able to gather the courage to look up. 

“I, um, I just was – I just – we’re at war, and I was trying not trying to be a nuisance.” Annette had squeezed her eyes shut, fully knowing she was babbling but unable to stop herself. “But you didn’t deserve to have me avoid you for a long time. And… and I know it doesn’t make any sense. I just messed up, and I was upset, and I’m sorry.”

“You’re not a nuisance.” Felix had finally looked at her – she had been able to feel his gaze pressing on the top of her head. 

Annette had slightly peeked out above her fingertips at him.

"It's just…" He had shifted again, as though he would rather just walk out the door, and then finally sighed. "I think about you, too, okay? Sometimes enough that it's annoying." 

"You… What?" The gears of Annette's mind had momentarily ground to a halt.

“I said I think about you, too.” Felix had rolled his eyes, but she had seen the slightest tinge of red on his cheeks. 

“You think about me?” Annette had repeated. 

"That's what I said," Felix had said, folding his arms. "You’re not an idiot. I know you heard me the first time. Don't make me repeat myself."

"You – you do?" Annette hadn't been able to fight the ballooning feeling of lightness in her chest. (But she had known this and hadn’t admitted it - hadn’t she? The training grounds, and the library, and the fact that he always listened to her silly songs, and had taken blows for her in battle, and the stupid bridal carry that Manuela had very clearly pointed out. The little, little ways that Felix had cared for her, during their war and otherwise.)

"Stop grinning like a lunatic," Felix had said.

"You think about me?" Annette had not quite been able to stop herself from asking again, even though she had known it would annoy him.

"I hear you singing all the time. Even when I sleep, or when I train, as soon as I wake up in the morning. It's like…" Felix had trailed off for a second, and then cleared his throat. "Like I said, it's annoying." 

"Oh." Annette had flushed, hearing Manuela's voice echo in her ears. "I… see."

"So stop running away." Felix had finally looked at her, looking equal parts annoyed and… some emotion she hadn't quite identified. (And his cheeks had still been tinged the lightest shade of red.) "I'm sick of chasing you around."

"Um, got it." Annette had tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks heat at his eyes on her. "I'll… um, I'll stop avoiding you."

"Also," Felix had said, and Annette had felt suddenly that this was going to be a longer conversation than she had expected, "Also, I don’t want to pick you up off the battlefield again. Just go with me next time."

"Oh.” Sudden shame had flushed her. "If only I had been stronger -"

"Stop apologizing," Felix had said, waving away whatever she had been intending to say. "Just ask me to come with you. Otherwise you're going to trip on something, and fall, and who is going to be there to keep you alive?"

"Oh," Annette had said, wincing.

He had ruffled his hair. Annette had recognized it as one of Felix's reflexive actions when aggrieved. "I'm not… I'm not _mad_ at you."

"I know," Annette had said, still avoiding his eyes.

Felix had sighed, deeply, and finally sat down on the edge of the infirmary bed next to hers. He had shifted uncomfortably for a minute or two, and she had felt his gaze pressing on the top of her head. "Look. It's just… I don't ever want to see you like that again.”

Annette had looked up. 

His eyebrows had been drawn low. "You looked like you were going to die." 

"Everyone… Everyone gets hurt sometimes," Annette had said, feeling the rush of warmth within her regardless, the heat in her cheeks. (It had been obvious for even her to see. So he really had been worried. Mercedes had not exaggerated.)

"You're -" Felix had broken off, looked to the side. When he had spoken again, it had been far quieter. "You’re not just anyone.”

"What?" Annette had said, blinking, uncertain if she had heard him right.

Felix had groaned and stood up. "Never mind."

"What?" Annette had flushed, now certain she had heard him correctly, after all.

He had groaned again, moving to walk out of the infirmary. "I am not repeating myself."

Annette had laced her fingers together, squeezing her hands together, trying to fight the irrepressible smile but failing. "Felix?" 

He had turned around. 

She had beamed at him. "Um, thank you. Again."

He had looked away, and she had seen the pink on his cheeks. "Stop thanking me."

The next few days, she had made herself present at the monastery. They had fallen in that same easy rhythm from those days at the monastery: Annette would start her days in the training grounds with Felix. They would run through basic sword drills together, and then Annette would practice her spellcasting while assisting Felix with ‘feeling the magic’ (which he roundly told her was not something anyone besides her actually did to practice casting, and could she please come up with a better way of explaining reason?). And then she would find some other way to spend the majority of her day with him, or he would find a way to find her where she was, whether it had been in some part of the monastery under construction or in the library. It had been entirely unspoken, the amount of time they had spent together; Annette had not remembered any conversation of the matter, or any discussion of plans for the day. It had just happened: Felix had just started turning up wherever she was.

He had found her in the greenhouse, once, although she hadn’t known he was there until she had turned around from watering the flowers in the back and her humming had turned into a shocked gasp. “Felix! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Your lack of perception is concerning, given how often we’re fighting these days.” Felix had been leaning against the wall of the greenhouse. 

“I can take care of myself on the battlefield,” Annette had huffed. “Most enemies don’t sneak up on me while I’m watering flowers.”

“Right.” Felix had almost smiled – she had seen it. 

“Anyways,” she had said, turning to water one of the plants closer to him, “What brings you here?”

Felix had shrugged. “What, I can’t just come to the greenhouse?”

“Hm.” Annette had grinned at him, at his feigned nonchalance. “You mean you’re not here to see me?”

Felix’s expression – and the fact his mouth had dropped open as though he had tried to retort, but he couldn’t find the words – had sent Annette into giggles. He had frowned at her, the barest dust of pink on his cheeks. “So what if I’m here to see you.”

“So,” Annette had drawn out the syllable for as long as she possibly could, “that makes me happy.”

He hadn’t said anything in response for a minute. Between watering the flowers, she had glanced up at him a few times. Felix had clearly been staring down one of the larger ferns as though he wanted it to combust under his gaze.

Annette had grinned at the snapdragons she had probably been overwatering. “Are you going to go to dinner soon?”

“Probably.” Felix had looked back at her. “Why are you bothering with any of this, anyways? We’re not even required to do chores anymore.”

“It’s nice to help out!” Annette had tipped the watering can to get the last drops of water out of it and then returned to the hose in the back of the room. “Besides, it gets my mind off of things. And I like flowers.”

“The monks should be able to take care of this stuff themselves.” Felix had looked at the mass of soil and leaf and flower beside her. “The goal is that we won’t be here much longer.”

“Mm.” Annette had screwed the hose shut and hefted the watering can to the other side of the greenhouse. “We have to make sure the flowers are nice though! Garland Moon is almost here.”

Felix had looked at her, his brow wrinkling. “What?”

“You know!” Annette had shimmied slightly because she couldn’t wave her hands while holding the watering can. “Garland Moon, people are supposed to be making flower wreaths and all that.”

“Who’s going to bother making a flower garland in the middle of a _war_?”

Annette had huffed at him. “Excuse me! Some people like having something nice to think about to distract them!”

Felix had scoffed.

“Besides,” she had continued, taking another step to water a particularly thorny rosebush, “I’m having fun imagining who’s going to sneak in here and take some flowers to make a garland.”

“Are you making one?” Felix’s voice had gone slightly flatter, as though he could iron any emotion from it.

“A garland?” She had turned slightly to look at him, and then her foot had caught on something. She had teetered for just one second before she quickly righted herself and avoiding falling directly into the spiked roses. “Whoops.”

When she’d looked up at him, Felix had been raising his eyebrows at her in annoyed disbelief. Even so, she hadn’t failed to notice that he had taken two steps forward as though he had been ready to attempt to catch her. “Goddess. How do you dance without falling?”

“Excuse me, I am an excellent dancer,” Annette had said, pointing the tip of the watering can at Felix. “I never fall when I dance.”

“Then how do you keep -”

“Ugh, I know, I know. I wish I knew.” Annette had tipped the watering can over the rosebush and then taken another step to water the next plant along the row. “Maybe I should just dance everywhere I go, huh? Maybe then I wouldn’t fall.”

Felix had taken a step alongside her. “That sounds inconvenient.”

Annette had nodded slowly, a scheme that even Claude might have been jealous of slowly falling into place. “Darn. Maybe if I had a dance partner to practice with, I could get good enough at dancing I wouldn’t fall even when walking around?”

She had looked sideways at him, grinning. Felix had stared at her, deadpan. “Not a chance.”

“Aw, come on, Felix.” Annette had grinned at him. “It would be good practice for me!”

“You hardly need practice.” Felix had rolled his eyes. “You dance every single time we fight.”

“Oh, come on,” she had repeated, setting down the watering can and walking up to him. He had looked at her suspiciously, but she had ignored him and taken his hands. “See? Just a little bit of practice.”

His eyes had widened fractionally, but he hadn’t pulled away from her. “Annette, I am not dancing with you.”

“Well, you can worry about me tripping all the time or I can just, you know, practice?” Annette had grinned at him. “Just like, one really short dance? Like five years ago?”

“Absolutely not. How would that possibly help you stop tripping if dancing clearly hasn’t done you any favors so far?” His tone had been far less threatening than his words, and Annette had stared at him as entreatingly as she possibly could. Felix had shifted as though to look away, and she tugged on his hands to keep his attention.

“Come on,” she had said, pulling one of his hands around her waist and leaving it there, and lacing her fingers with his other hand. “Just a little dance?”

Felix had just looked at her, and his hand hadn’t moved from her waist to push her away. There had been something quiet in his eyes, and she’d felt suddenly how close she had pulled them together, how closely his body aligned to hers. “Annette, I’m… I’m not going to dance with you.”

“Oh.” She had petered out, suddenly embarrassed – because she could feel the warmth of his body and hand on hers, had smelled iron and leather, something that she knew was only Felix’s (for she had been around it for so long, now). And they were so close, suddenly, standing alone in the greenhouse – which was made of glass, and so many people could have just walked inside and seen them so close together, and seen the way she knew she had been looking up at him. “Um, got it.”

She had moved to disentangle herself but he had held her in place for a second. She’d looked up. Felix hadn’t met her eyes. “You’re plenty good at dancing. And I don’t mind looking out for you when you trip.”

“Oh.” Annette had flushed. “Um. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.” Felix had dropped his hands from around her and she had quickly moved away to the watering can that she had abandoned earlier, as though the normalcy of the chore might distract her from the fact that she had very clearly failed to convince him to dance with her, and how ridiculous it had been to just reach out and pull him towards her and think he would just dance with her despite the fact that he hated dancing, and Goddess, what had she been thinking –

“Anyways!” she had said loudly, straightening and beginning to water the flowers in front of her with a passion that she hoped would thoroughly distract her from her thoughts, “Anyways, um, we were talking about dinner, right? Do you know what it’s supposed to be?”

“Right.” Felix had cleared his throat. “It’s… going to be something vegetarian. I think.”

“Oh, got it.” Annette had nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m…” Felix had made an odd coughing noise in the back of his throat. “I’m going to go get dinner then.”

“Oh, okay.” She had turned to see him, standing still, still not moving to the door of the greenhouse. Annette had met his eyes and suddenly understood – he had been waiting for her. “Oh! Is it okay if I come with you?”

“That’s fine.” Felix had turned around and she had set down the watering can to hurry and walk beside him. “I don’t mind.”

She had grinned at him, and he had looked away.

Battles had followed. (So many, the weeks had felt like years.) Annette had often trailed behind Felix in battle, urging him onwards and fighting herself. When Crusher had been required, he had provided the speed alongside her firepower. And when Enbarr's gates had loomed above them, when the army's march had finally driven them to their final stand, it had been Felix who had reassured her, when she had been so afraid she had almost thrown up.

“You look like you’re going to pass out.”

Annette had looked up so quickly she had almost cracked her neck. “F-Felix.”

Felix had shifted slightly, the four swords hanging behind him clinking against his armor. Dimitri had finished his speech to the army, something about fighting together as one. Annette had grinned the whole way through the speech, but when the speech had finished and each of them had gone to prepare themselves in their respective ways, the unfortunately familiar mix of fear and anticipation had begun crawling slowly throughout her. If she had been honest with herself, she could have admitted that this was in part because, for the first time in a very long time, the professor had decided to have her fight far away from Felix. And she had become so used to fighting alongside him – so used to it that it had been terrifying to have that familiarity torn away.

Felix had walked a few steps closer to her. “I could tell from all the way across the bridge that you’re panicking. Don’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking,” Annette had said, but the frantic pace of her heart, and the fact that she could feel the tension pulling tightly at the back of her shoulders, had said otherwise. 

Felix had folded his arms at her, clearly unconvinced.

“We’re going to be good,” she had said, nodding quickly at him. It had been hard, in the dancer’s costume, to hide the fact that her hands had been shaking.

Felix had just looked at her. There had been no judgment in his eyes. He had just stood there, waiting, and she had known the platitude she’d offered him was not working to convince him she was anything other than afraid.

Annette had bit her lip. “I mean – we are going to be okay. Right?”

“We’re going to be fine.” Felix’s expression, unwavering, had been a reassurance all of its own. 

“Yep.” Annette had nodded slightly, had folded her arms to prevent herself from shaking.

“We’ve fought a lot before and we’ve been fine. The boar wants to win this. Goddess knows he’ll take down half the army himself.”

“Right.” Annette had forced herself to take a deep breath. “Yep. Dimitri’s pretty strong.”

“Byleth has a plan in place, and he hasn’t let us down yet,” Felix had said. “That idiot Sylvain is pretty reliable in a battle even though he’s a pain in the ass. Ingrid’s capable, Ashe is a good shot, Dedue would rather die than let anyone touch the boar, so there’s that. Besides, Mercedes is a good healer.”

“Right.” Annette had taken another deep breath. “Yeah, that’s true. Mercie’s Physic can practically work from the opposite side of town.” 

“You’re going to be fine.” Felix had looked at her. She had met his eyes, met the quiet resolution there, and had finally felt her shoulders relax slightly. 

“Yep.” Annette had forced herself to smile at him, had taken a deep breath. “Yep! We’re going to fight our hardest and we’ll win!”

“Right.” Felix had nodded at her. 

“And we’re gonna do it together,” she had said. “And it’ll work out!”

He’d nodded at her again. “Yeah.”

“Thanks, Felix.” She had smiled at him again, this time more genuinely. “I really… I really needed to hear that.”

Felix had lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s fine.”

“You know, for being a pessimist sometimes, you’re pretty reassuring.” She had nudged him slightly and he had blinked.

“I’m not a pessimist. It’s called being realistic.” 

“Uh huh.” It had been Annette’s turn to roll her eyes at him, playfully. They had been standing almost side by side, the gates before them. She had turned to face him slightly. “I’m glad you’re around, Felix.”

“As if I’d let myself die before this war is over,” he had said.

“Well, still.” She had smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re around.”

He had looked away slightly. “Well. I’m here, I guess.”

Annette had grinned at him. 

And then a loud trumpet had blasted from the gates in front of them, and shouting had rose around them, indicating that the battle was truly about to begin. The gates of Enbarr, huge and terrifying, had begun to grind open, the noise of stone on stone loud and grating. Her heart had shot into a gallop again, and they had looked at each other for only a split second before Annette had told herself to screw her stupid doubts and just do something, because she could die or he could die or the world could have imploded, and the war was going to be over soon, anyways, or something -

She’d put a hand on his arm and leaned upwards, had kissed him so lightly that she had barely felt his lips against hers.

When she was no longer on her tiptoes and had the courage to glance up at him, he had been looking at her, his mouth just slightly open in surprise. 

“Um. Good luck,” she had said quickly, feeling herself flush as red as her hair and moving to hurry around him and rejoin with her squadron, or generally flee from the situation -

Except Felix had grasped her wrist and pulled her to an abrupt halt. “Annette.”

“Um, sorry!” she had said quickly, her voice substantially higher-pitched due to some terrible mix of embarrassment at her actions and terror at the battle before them.

“Stop moving for a moment.” He had let go of her wrists only to grasp her shoulders, pulling her to face him. They had looked at each other. His face so close to hers, his eyes insistent on hers. He had flushed, just slightly, although she could not tell if it was anticipation for the battle or because of what she had just done. The shouting and clanging of armor coming from the troops moving out first had been loud in her ears – Dimitri or the professor and their squadrons. “Don’t – don’t die today.”

“Um. I’m not planning on it,” she had said, swallowing.

“I mean it. I’m not going to be around to cover for you.”

“I’m going to be okay, Felix,” she had said, because she had understood what he had meant. 

“Don’t do anything reckless.” He hadn’t let go of her. 

“I won’t.” She had nodded at him, the fear and the horror and – and everything else in her had been overtaken by that reassurance, and the fact that he had been worried for her. “I’m going to be okay, Felix. And – And you will be, too.”

“Good.” Felix had released her shoulders slowly and nodded at her. “Go find your squadron. It’s time.”

“Yep.” She had nodded back, forcing herself to smile the smallest amount. “Let’s do this.”

(She had known, even then, that it had been mostly for her sake that he had said all his reassurances. Because he had been scared, too – she had seen it, later, while they had been fighting, and she had looked across that terrible carpeted throne room to see him fighting beside Dimitri, his eyes wide. They had all been afraid, terrified of – of whatever Edelgard had finally become. And she had been afraid, too, to stand so far away from him, to remain unable to do anything if something happened to him, only to pray that Mercedes would be fast to see him in pain, that he would be fast enough to avoid whatever came to him.)

And when, ears deafened from the shouting (and the triumphant parades and the mourning and the weeping and the rejoicing and the yelling at their victory), Annette had finally made it back to the monastery, she had found him first. It had been the first thing she'd been planning on doing, anyways, but then Sylvain had caught her arm sometime during their march back to Garreg Mach, between raucous shouting and her squadron's cheers. ("You should go talk to Felix, he has something to say to you.") It had taken her a while to find him, upon her return. He had been standing on the little bridge to the Goddess Tower, one of the only areas of the entire monastery that had not been alight with fury and fervor and cheering, and she had paused for a moment, watching him. Looking at his face, the angles of his body. The person she so desperately cared for. 

He had been looking out over the trees and stone outcropping below them, and she had made her way beside him. "Hey, Felix."

"Annette," he had said, looking at her, and then looking back over the outcropping. Both of their hair had tossed slightly in the breeze.

"I can't believe it's over," she had said. "Like, it's really over. All of it. And we’re okay. We – we’re still alive, and we’re all okay."

Felix had let out a breath. "Hardly seems real."

"I can't believe we did it," she had said, had felt the warmth of tears spring to her eyes. "It's really finally over. And I’m so glad we’re all okay.”

"So you said," he had said, but the words had had no bite to them. 

Annette had huffed, even though she had known he had been teasing her. "Can't I just appreciate the moment for a second?"

He had laughed, just barely. "We all should. It is over."

"Yep." Annette had looked at him, unable to stop the grin.

Felix had looked back at her. There had been something warm and insistent in his eyes, and she hadn't been able to look away. He had lifted his hand to her face, his leather gloves warm from the sun. She had thought of the library, all that time ago, the sudden heat of being so close to him between the dark bookshelves. "Annette," he had started.

"Yes?" She had fought the urge to swallow. He had been so close, and all she had wanted to do was go all the closer. Her hand had raised slightly, as though to wrap her arms around him, drag him against her, and she had flushed at the way her body had moved before her mind had.

Felix had opened his mouth slightly, clearly trying to find the words for… whatever he had been trying to say. Annette had been unable to stop thinking about the way she could have just pulled on the fabric of his jacket, pulling his face to hers, feeling her fingers tighten slightly on him.

"Annette, I -"

"There you are!" Ingrid. 

Annette had sunk forward slightly, into Felix's chest, both in disappointment and a small dose of almost horrified relief, for she had been entirely too close to just going up on her toes and kissing him before he had spoken. Almost reflexively, Felix had wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her closer so that her head had been pressed against him.

"Oh. Um." Ingrid had clearly been shocked at the scene. "Felix. Annette."

"What," Felix had said, and she had been able to feel his rumble of his word through her cheek on his chest. Annette had been blessedly glad she hadn't had to face the pegasus knight. Felix had smelled like iron and sweat and musk - like war, and like cedar, and the weight of his body on hers had been warm. Felt natural. Like that was how it should have been. She had felt herself flush at the thought. 

"Um, I guess I should… come back later?" 

He had not said anything else, but Felix had clearly been glaring viciously enough that Ingrid had filled in the blank. "Right, got it. Um, sorry."

When Felix's arm had loosened around her, and Annette had drawn back slightly, she had seen the lightest flush on his cheeks. (Some possessive, small part of her had flushed - for she had caused that.) Felix had looked out over the giant tree beside the Goddess Tower, and seconds had passed, his hand still grazing the small of her back. She had sensed his hesitation - coupled with embarrassment - and had realized this silence would go for a long time.

"Um." (Annette had cursed herself, later, for always needing to fill the silence.) "Um, so. Sylvain, um, he said you had something to say to me."

Felix had jolted, whatever expression had been on his face before immediately gone, melting into anger. "He _what_?"

Annette had frozen. Whatever Sylvain had meant, telling Felix had clearly been a mistake.

"I can't believe him." Felix had immediately released her to fold his arms, expression dark. He had turned to the wall and leant slightly on it, overlooking the trees again. "Goddess. Will he ever learn not to stick his nose where it doesn't belong?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything bad by it," Annette had said, raising a hand as though to pull him back to facing her.

"Insatiable." Felix had said the word more to himself than her. 

"Is he… wrong?" Annette had sidled slightly closer to him. "Do you have something you wanted to say?"

Felix hadn’t moved, his eyes still fixed somewhere that was decidedly not her. 

"You can tell me anything, you know," Annette had said, looking up at him with as much intensity as she could muster, as though the pressure of her gaze could make him look at her. Because what on earth could he have needed to say to her? She had been desperately curious. "I'm happy to listen."

"It's…" Felix had let out a long breath. "That idiot. He’s just sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and he’s expecting me to listen to his advice. But no one should ever take Sylvain's advice."

Annette had processed the words for a second. "Huh."

"Anyways, it's ridiculous." Felix had shaken his head. "You - you shouldn't even care."

"Well, no! I really want to know," Annette had said.

Felix had looked at her. Annette had grinned. He had tilted his head back to the sky and sighed deeply. "Of course you do." 

"Well, what is it then?"

"It's not important."

"Of course it is!" Annette had fought the urge to stamp her foot.

"Annette." Felix had turned to look at her, expression suddenly serious. She had tensed, almost, at the surprising intensity in his gaze, the sudden jolt of heat it sent through her - and then he had immediately turned away, turned his entire back to her. "No. Fuck."

"What!" Annette had hurried around him so that she was facing him again, curiosity suddenly doubled. "What on earth are you trying to say?"

"Annette, don't." Felix had looked away from her. "Please don't."

"Felix!" She had almost been indignant with curiosity.

"Annette, I…" Felix had been unable to meet her eyes, expression almost pained.

"What?" Annette had inched closer. "What?"

"Don’t make me say it," he had said, one hand rising to partially cover his face.

"Say what?" Annette had practically vibrated with suspense. 

Felix had made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a half-laugh, looking like he would have rather been anywhere else.

"Felix! How am I supposed to know otherwise?" Annette had moved another inch closer, as if this would pressure him into speaking.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," he had said, almost a groan.

"Felix!" Annette had huffed. "I really, really want to know!"

"You think I can't tell?" Felix had looked deeply disgruntled. He'd rubbed his eyes, mussing his bangs in the process.

"If you tell me, I'll - I'll cook dinner for a week!"

Felix had snorted. "No thanks. I like the kitchen in one piece. Besides, aren't you leaving Garreg Mach soon?"

"I would not break the kitchen, Felix. And I'd stay! I honor my promises." Annette had huffed, and then tried again. "I'll help you with your spells?"

"Hardly important now the war is over," Felix had said, fingers mussing his hair again.

"I'll, um, I'll -" Annette had broken off, finally thinking of something to wager. "Ooh, I’ll sing for you forever!"

Felix had paused, hand half-lowered from his face after unruffling his hair, his eyes slightly wide. 

"Well?" Annette had asked impatiently.

Felix hadn't quite met her eyes. "Forever… is a long time.”

Annette had flushed, suddenly hearing the implications of her words. "Um, wait. I mean -"

"No, it's too late," Felix had said waving a hand as though to push away her retraction.

"Now, hold on," Annette had said, going redder.

"Too late." Felix had suddenly grinned, something so amused it was almost a smirk. "I'll take you up on that deal."

"W-Wait," Annette had said, feeling her ears even go red. She had sensed that she had gotten herself in too deep with whatever the conversation had been becoming, but had been unwilling to give up her point. "Then… Then that means you have to tell me!"

Felix had snorted, moving around her to walk away. "Well, it looks like you didn't give a deadline. So I think I'll wait."

"What!" Annette had stood up as well, hands suddenly fisting. "Felix! You can't do that."

"Your funeral, making that promise."

"Felix!" She had stamped her foot.

Felix had suddenly turned around and grinned at her, halfway to the cathedral's door. The rarity of the smile, and the almost careless, relaxed quality to it - something she had never seen before - had stopped her in her tracks. "I’ll tell you later."

She had felt herself flush, at that smile, and how it had felt entirely hers, something no one else had seen. Felix had turned around and walked away, but she had stood there another minute longer, wondering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manuela wrote herself into this piece and I couldn't even be mad about it
> 
> next chapter last chapter!


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised that the tense changes to reflect the fact that this is more 'currently' happening, rather than pieces of Annette's memories of Felix. 
> 
> alternative title: Felix Is Still Terrible at Words and Emotions

There was less to have to remember, after a war. Annette left behind the monastery for good - she had known it as soon as she had walked out of those huge gates - and traveled back to Fhirdiad along with her father. Between restoring their old house, which had been abandoned after her father had left them, and teaching a few guest lectures at her former school, the School of Sorcery, peacetime slowly slipped by. 

She became letter-writing companions with many of her former classmates and soldiers-in-arms. Ingrid wrote occasionally, detailing her struggle to begin the first all-female corps of pegasus knights, and even more occasionally to complain about Sylvain, who apparently still found ways to spend time with her despite her busy schedule. Ashe wrote from House Gaspard every once in a while; while he mostly detailed small happenings that he thought she would appreciate, he also often asked her for tactical advice as someone who had tried to assist her uncle in ruling Dominic territory years before. Mercedes wrote in a stream of letters that her mother called ‘near-excessive,’ only matched in breadth by Annette’s frequent replies. Even so, the letters she’d looked forward to the most were ones from Felix. 

Annette hadn’t exactly expected anything of length, from him, but he had written fairly frequently. They had discussed a wide variety of topics, from the mundane to the elaborate. Annette urged him to hold a ball within his newly-appointed House as the heir apparent, to take over whenever his uncle rescinded his position (“it would boost morale! Everyone’s working hard to recover after the war, right? Nothing boosts morale like a party!”), which had been summarily rejected by Felix. She also frequently wrote about the banalities of her daily life and occasionally asked him for tips on how to teach Thoron to her students, as she’d never mastered the subject herself (“I don’t know how to _teach_ it. It’s like holding a Levin sword. Go get one and make them hold it or something. Please tell me you’re giving them more direction than ‘you just feel the magic,’ Annette.”). The letters, whenever received, often just caused Annette to wonder if it would be awkward to visit House Fraldarius – because the letters had never been the same as seeing him face to face. 

Eventually, however, his letters slowed in their frequency, until they finally stopped coming altogether. Annette had understood - for she knew he had been busy. He was working to restore his territory, and he was an important person now – for by this time, his uncle had stepped down. It had made sense, and she hadn’t begrudged him it. After all, as time passed, she was not entirely sure if she could write a letter to him that would encompass half of what she knew she needed to say to him. 

And so it was a few months after the war when her father received a letter - an apparently important one, given his reaction - that sparked a flurry of quiet conversations between him and her mother, ones that descended into whispers when Annette entered the room. Annette was not worried that she was not privy to any of these conversations. Her parents were entitled to secrets of their own, given all that had happened during the war, and she was busy herself, teaching lectures to her former school almost every week.

Only a few weeks after the letter had arrived, Annette was sitting at her desk in her room. It was pouring, complete with the occasional, window-rattling rumble of thunder. Torrential rain: a rather unfortunate, if not common, occurrence for Fhirdiad. Annette was preparing for a lecture at the school, poring over her notes and fiddling with the structure of how she would introduce a new topic to the class, when a knock had come on the front door downstairs. She barely heard it, caught in debating with herself about whether to discuss wind spells first, or the more common fire spells, or if she should begin with ice spells given that it was now winter.

Several minutes passed. She heard without thought the creak of the stairs that led to her small room, and then heard a rap on her door.

"Annette." Her father. 

Annette straightened, putting down the quill. "Yes, Father?"

"There's someone here to see you."

Annette stood up, confused. Mercedes had told her that she would visit, eventually, but had not yet done so, and had not sent any letter. There were few people who would visit her - perhaps, she thought confusedly, it could be Ingrid? But she was likely in the castle, or on some mission with her troop of pegasus knights.

"Coming," she said, walking to her door. She opened the door to - 

"Oh!" Annette's eyes widened. For it was Felix, dressed in something so dark blue it had turned black with rain (and he was dripping, literally dripping, across the wood of the small entrance to her room). "Oh - oh. Felix!"

Her father sort of cleared his throat and walked away (she had heard the stairs creak behind him), and Annette was left with Felix, who was not looking at her, instead looking almost pained. She traced his body with her eyes, noting the fact his hair had lengthened, slightly, and the circles under his eyes had just barely darkened (although that could have been the dim lighting in their house, with the storm). The cloak he was wearing had been clasped with a metal piece formed to look like the Fraldarius crest; she remembered his father wearing something similar.

She opened her mouth but didn't have a chance to even speak before Felix immediately walked into her room. He didn't sit down, and Annette recognized again that he was absolutely dripping wet, hair plastered to his face, and that he hadn't even shed his cloak at the door to their house, as he probably should have. He made it to the other side of her room and then turned so abruptly his wet hair had flicked him in the face.

"Annette," he said abruptly, as though he had not just soaked the rug on her floor and not spoken for about a minute.

"Um. Hi, Felix! It's been so long." She smoothed down her dress, unable to stop the smile from widening on her face. His expression constricted somewhat, into something pained and uncomfortable, and he immediately looked away.

"It has." Felix looked at her dresser as though it was deeply interesting.

"How have you been?" Annette was entirely willing to let his lack of ability to keep her gaze go. For he was there. Really there. In her house. (She couldn't believe it. It had been so long, and he had not written her to say he had been coming to Fhirdiad. It was surreal, to see him.)

"Well." Felix cleared his throat. "I'm well."

"I see." Annette took a few steps forward, and Felix walked to the other side of the room, shoulders tense. 

Annette paused and pivoted slightly so she was still facing him.

He turned again, again abruptly. "I'm here to see you." 

Annette bit back a smile at how odd he was behaving. "I… can see that."

"Right." Felix flicked his hair out of his face with a gloved hand and then self-consciously moved it back. "Right."

"Um." Annette took another step forward, this time more hesitantly. "Can I take your cloak or something? Felix, you're soaking wet."

"Oh." Felix looked down at himself as though for the first time realizing that he was leaving a small pool of water on her floor. "Right."

He reached to his neck and unclasped the cloak, the sodden mass of it flicking more water onto the rug below him. Annette walked up to him and took it, the sodden weight of it heavy and thick in her hands. It smelled like the outdoors - fresh rain and mud, something viscerally reminiscent of their days fighting and trudging as an army. Annette shook away the memories with a small shake of her head and hung the cloak over one of the hooks in her wall.

"Um, I heard from Ingrid you formally took on your father's title," Annette said, turning back to him.

Felix nodded, stiltedly. "Yes."

"How is that?" Annette walked a few steps closer. 

Felix slipped off his gloves, the leather clearly dark with rain. "It’s… It’s fine.”

Annette paused. "It must be hard, running the territory all yourself."

Felix cleared his throat. "It's fine."

"I'm really glad you came to see me, though, even though you're so busy!" Annette smiled, finally catching his eyes. 

Felix's expression softened, a small smile at the edge of his lips. "Right."

"So," Annette rocked slightly on her feet, "did you come to Fhirdiad for official Dukedom business? I'm sure Dimitri - I mean, His Majesty – is looking forward to seeing you."

"No, I -" Felix broke off slightly, his grip tightening a touch on his gloves. "No, I came to see you."

"Oh." There was a sudden warmth in her chest. "You came all this way just to see me?"

"That's what I said, earlier." Felix looked almost embarrassed, again. "Stop making me repeat myself."

"Oh." Annette smiled. It took a journey of a week on horseback to travel from the Dukedom to Fhirdiad, and it had been storming all week. 

Felix cleared his throat again. "Anyways. I'm here to - to talk with you."

"You did say that," Annette said, tilting her head to the side. "Are you okay, Felix? You seem a bit – um, distracted."

"I'm fine." Felix's response was instantaneous. 

Annette nodded slowly, unwilling to call his bluff.

Felix turned slightly, and she watched with acute clarity as he gathered himself as though steeling himself to fight a demonic beast. He finally walked up to her until he was close enough that she could have stepped forward once and been almost flush against him. “Annette.”

“Um.” Annette fought to ignore the fact that she thought she might be blushing at how close he had suddenly gotten to her, and how she could still somehow, traitorously, remember being closer still, on the floor of the training grounds almost a year ago. “Yes?” 

Felix paused and cleared his throat. “I – I know you’re busy right now, and teaching classes here in Fhirdiad. But I was hoping...”

Annette held her breath. 

Felix swallowed. “I…” 

Annette didn’t dare even open her mouth. A muscle in Felix’s jaw worked.

Felix opened his mouth again, paused, and then closed his eyes. “Goddess damn it.” 

“What?” Annette looked at him in surprise.

“ _Damn_ it all.” Felix threw his gloves on the ground. “I’m sick of trying to explain.”

Annette blinked. “What?”

“Just –” Felix shook his head at her as though to wave away her confusion. He took a half-step closer to her, so close that she felt slightly hemmed in, despite the fact that she was in the middle of the room with him. And something in his gaze, insistent and heated, stopped her thoughts in their tracks.

“Felix?” Annette got out, pitched slightly higher than her normal voice, before Felix had a hand grazing the side of her face, pulling her upwards slightly to him.

For a beat, they looked at each other again, and Annette had felt her breathing quicken, had been able to see his breathing match hers, making her heart constrict slightly in her chest. “Um.”

“Just stop talking for a second,” Felix said, and his voice had gone slightly hoarse.

Annette swallowed. Felix’s eyes were dark, and without thinking Annette laced her arms around him. And then he leaned in and all thought truly ceased.

His lips on hers were – 

It wasn’t exactly like one of the romance novels Mercedes had hidden in a trunk in her room, below several tomes of magic intended to scare away trespassers, and it wasn’t exactly like one of the more torrid novels that had originated from somewhere in the female student body (Annette had suspected Hilda) and had made the rounds of every single house, scandalizing many and causing much blushing at the ripping of stays and the disrobement of lacy garters. Annette had kissed a boy before, in school in Fhirdiad (an experience that had left her mostly disappointed and ambivalent about repeating the experience anytime soon), but this wasn’t like that either. 

Because this time, it was Felix, and every movement of his lips on hers sent a quiet thrill of heat through her, and though his hair had been wet against the side of her face, his mouth and face and body had been warm. She had felt his heartbeat, fast against hers; her breath caught when he had threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her head slightly to the side, and when he bit slightly on her lower lip she made a breathy noise she hadn’t heard herself make before, and felt him smile slightly against her lips. Flustered, and entirely unwilling to feel inexperienced, Annette had pressed herself closer to him and was rewarded by his hands tightening on her, his mouth dropping from her lips to kiss the side of her neck, making her jump. He let out a breath of what she assumed was laughter at her sudden movement, and the feeling of his breath fanning hot across her neck made her shiver. 

“Felix,” she said, trying not to sound like she was whining (but entirely sure she sounded as though she was), and he raised slightly to look at her again, his mouth an almost-smile.

She moved her hand to the side of his face, ran her fingers through his bangs to pull them slightly away from his face so she could see him better. His eyes were alight with something warm and gentle, and the weight of his gaze on hers had made her flush again. “Um.”

“What?” he asked her.

Annette knew her face was red and she probably looked a bit ridiculous, but she forged on. Because she had something to say to him – she had needed to say it for some time, now. And because the look on his face had made her wonder, again, made her hope. “Um, Felix. Maybe this is bad timing, but I have something to say.”

Felix’s entire face went blank – guarded, despite the fact that they were still mostly wrapped around each other. “What is it?”

“Um. I…” Annette shut her eyes. “Um, okay, I – please, please, don’t hate me for saying this – but I definitely love you and I’m really sorry for saying it but it’s true and I know we haven’t seen each other in _months_ , but it’s not exactly something you can _write_ in a _letter_ –”

She was cut off by Felix’s mouth on hers, surprising her into opening her eyes, and then causing her eyes to shut at the feeling of his body pressed on hers, his lips against hers. Thought had mostly ceased for another span of time, this kiss slower, languorous, one that gradually suffused her with heat.

Several minutes, or seconds later (Annette wasn’t sure), he pulled away from her and she blinked several times, the ground slightly unsteady beneath her. (Had it really happened? Had any of it actually happened?)

“You stole my line,” Felix said flatly, as though he hadn’t just kissed her wordless. (But his cheeks were slightly red, and despite how unaffected he was pretending to be, she could feel how fast his heart was still beating on hers.) 

“Huh?” Annette took a moment to allow the words to sink in. “Wait, what?”

“I was supposed to tell you that,” Felix said, and although his expression had been mildly annoyed, the small smile on the edges of his lips proved otherwise. “I can’t believe I came all the way to Fhirdiad to say that and you beat me to it.”

“You –” Annette paused. “Hold on. Felix - you came here to say…”

"I can't get any of your stupid songs out of my head, and it's been months. That's not normal. I hear your voice, all the time. It's like… it's like I'm your captive." Felix had looked slightly away from her at the end, his cheeks barely pink.

"Oh." Annette knew she was flushing a deep red. "Y-Your captive?"

"I don’t know," Felix said, suddenly moving away from her as though burned. “Forget I said anything.”

Annette gripped his back and pulled him slightly towards her again, refusing to let him stop. “Felix. I’m – I’m not just going to… to forget it.”

Felix gradually turned back towards her. “It’s… It’s what I was supposed to say, at Garreg Mach. Before you left for Fhirdiad."

“Oh.” Annette paused. “And… it’s what you were trying to say, just now?”

Felix had looked away and Annette immediately knew she was right.

“So… what was it, exactly, you were trying to say?” Annette said, entirely knowing she was pressing her luck.

Felix made a face at her. “Goddess. You already know. Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Yep.” Annette giggled at Felix’s expression.

“I love you.” He said it without looking at her, the slightest flush on his cheeks, and then had immediately tipped his forehead into her shoulder, the weight of him warm and damp against her. When he spoke again, it was somewhat muffled by her dress. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes!” Annette could barely stop herself from jumping, or spinning around the room, or throwing herself at him again. She felt like the world had sort of slipped away from her, because surely it was not reality. Surely - surely - Felix had not just told her he loved her. Surely this was some sort of bizarre fever dream, and she would awaken with ink on her cheeks and have smudged all her notes for her lecture tomorrow. 

But it had been real. And the weight of him against her, and the fact that his hair was leaving damp marks on her clothing, made it all the more real. She tightened her grip on him as though squeezing him would make him understand the depth of her emotion, pulling herself more tightly against him. “Yes, yep, very happy. Very, very, very happy.”

“I get it, I get it,” Felix moved to extricate himself from her, but Annette held on, keeping him close to her even as he straightened. “Hey.”

Annette giggled again, unable to stop herself, feeling almost lightheaded with happiness. Felix’s expression softened again, even though he rolled his eyes, and she had giggled at that, too.

“Anyways.” Felix cleared his throat. “Now you have to fill your end of the deal.”

“My end of the deal?” she repeated, mind still repeating his words (I love you, I love you, I love you).

“You know.” Felix looked at her. “I told you what I said I would.”

“Oh.” Annette flushed slightly, remembering her own words (“I’ll sing for you forever!”). And the sort of… indefinite nature of the statement. “Um. And… How am I supposed to interpret that?”

Felix cleared his throat again, fidgeting slightly in her arms. He stepped backwards and this time she let her arms fall away from him as he visibly tensed, though his eyes were still on hers. “I want you to come to Fraldarius territory.”

“Oh.” Annette blinked. But that had sounded almost like – Annette stopped the thought, for he spoke again.

“With me.” Felix fidgeted again, and one of his hands fell into his pocket. “If you want to.”

“If I want to?” Annette didn't quite know what to do. Or what to say. Or how to hold herself. 

"Look," Felix said, and she recognized the impatience - and the fear, and she recognized it with almost wonder - in the tension in his shoulders. He fiddled with something in his pocket for a moment and then held his hand out. "This is for you. Take it."

Annette barely recognized the fact that he was holding a ring. "Do - Do you really mean that?"

"Here, take the ring," he said, and his voice was growing louder, "Just - take it."

"Is this really for me?" Annette looked at him directly again, as though something in his expression would suddenly cave and inform her that this was all just a terrible, terrible joke, or dream.

"Goddess!" Felix was suddenly flushed, prickling with embarrassment. "How many times are you going to make me repeat that? Do you think I’m just giving this to you for fun?"

"I'm sorry!" She quickly reached out and took the ring from him. It was heavy in her hand - silver, with a blue jewel in it - and the weight and small amounts of wear on it marked its age as something old. A family heirloom. A tiny indentation on the underside of the ring marked the Fraldarius crest. Annette's breath had caught in her throat. 

"Your father knows," Felix said, suddenly. "He said he was fine with it. If you are."

"You asked Father?" Annette looked at him again. But her father had not mentioned anything to her. (She remembered the letter, seconds before Felix spoke again.)

"I sent a letter." Felix shifted. "So?"

"So?" Annette repeated, somewhat dazed.

"So," Felix ground out, clearly waiting for something. Annette looked at him, still having difficulty processing the situation. Felix looked on the verge of shaking her, flexing his hands with impatience. "Do you really not have anything to say right now?"

"Oh." Annette jolted. "Oh. Oh! Oh." She flushed again. "Um."

"Well?" Felix.

(She remembered their dance, all those years ago: the first time he'd ever touched her outside of a sparring match. Remembered all the days, training together as he coached her through swordsmanship. The way he lingered in the greenhouse when she was humming. The many, innumerable times he'd caught a blade intended for her with his sword. When he'd pushed her out of the way of that catapult. His smile. The way he'd looked at her when he had found her a worthy opponent. The fact that he would eat with her in the dining hall even though they didn't like much food in common. The million, tiny, stupid, foolish ways he'd caught her heart in his hands, for years now.)

"Of course," she said, looking at him. "Of course."

"Oh." Felix cleared his throat again, but she had seen the grin on his face for a second, the same one she had seen before he had left her on the entrance to the Goddess Tower. Felix was red - truly red, not just slightly flushed. She could tell, despite the poor lighting.

"Felix, you're blushing," she said, trying to fight the grin.

"What? No, I'm not." He immediately moved to cover his face with his hand, but she caught his wrist.

"You definitely are,” she said, grinning at him. He looked away again, but she caught his eyes as she motioned to the ring. "Um. Would you?"

“You can’t put it on yourself?” he asked, but there was no bite to the words.

“Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do?” Annette asked. Felix took her hand, huffing slightly. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” he said, even as he slid the ring onto her finger. Annette recognized again that the ring was heavy, far heavier than any ring she had ever worn before. He paused a moment, as though recognizing that this was happening, as quietly surprised as she was. “There.”

Annette smiled at him, feeling almost shy despite herself. “Thank you.” 

Felix turned around, as though to avoid any more sudden expressions of emotion. He cleared his throat. “Happy?”

“Yes!” She flung herself at his back, hugging him so the side of her face pressed into his shoulder blade. “Extremely.” Annette squeezed Felix’s midriff slightly tighter. He was warm against her, solid and real.

“All right, all right, I get it, I get it.” Felix coughed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Annette giggled. “You can take it.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to.” Felix’s hands descended to her arms around him, but he didn’t push her away. His thumb brushed over her left hand, and the ring on it.

“I love you, you know,” Annette said, somewhat muffled against the back of his shirt. 

“You… don’t have to keep saying that.” Felix moved as though to turn and she let him go for long enough that he could turn around, and then embraced him tightly enough to hold him in place again. He had sighed, lightly enough she knew he wasn’t annoyed. “You could let me go, you know.”

Annette giggled. “Um, sorry, but this is what you asked for.”

Felix huffed out a breath but his arms fell lightly around her. “I guess it is.”

(Her father would clear his throat gruffly when they descended the stairs, would mutter something about how he had known since that battle in Dominic Territory, and how Felix had better care for his daughter better than he had, and so on, until Annette would be more thoroughly embarrassed than Felix and would practically push Felix out the door while yelling a goodbye over her shoulder.)

(They would go to see Dimitri, after all. There would be much clapping on the shoulder by Dimitri of Felix, and Dedue would nod with some satisfaction at the two of them, and Annette would feel (again) as though everyone had known about the two of them, even during the war, with the exception of maybe Ingrid. Byleth, visiting from Garreg Mach, would see her ring and nod. “Makes sense.”)

(Sylvain would personally ride to House Fraldarius, so that when they made it there, after Annette had gathered her things and settled her business in Fhirdiad, he would be standing in the house, grinning. “Well, well, well. An engaged man, huh?” Felix, predictably, would yell at him. “Who let you in _my home_? Get out!” Ingrid would walk out of another room in the house, view the commotion between Felix yelling and Sylvain laughing, and avoid it entirely. She would hug Annette. “I really can’t believe it - I’m so happy for you two.”)

(Ashe would send a kind letter from where he had been travelling, and Annette would quickly write back that he was welcome whenever he pleased. Felix would see the letter before she sent it and would grumble about how his house wasn’t a _hostel_ for stray knights but would shut up as soon as Annette frowned at him.)

(Mercedes would arrive at their doorstep after sending exactly nine letters in the interval between the engagement and her arrival (a period of two weeks). She and Annette would practically run to each other, Annette speaking at a speed that would be almost unintelligible. After their long conversation, Mercedes would view Felix calmly. Felix, despite enduring her father’s behavior without comment, would finally look discomfited at Mercedes’s gaze. Finally, Mercedes would nod at him. “You better take care of her, Felix.” Felix would clear his throat. “Obviously.” And Mercedes would smile.)

And Annette - Annette would be happy. 

She knew she would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Thanks so much for sticking around for the ride.


End file.
